


love’s not controlled by the weather

by stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, Slow Burn, a winter romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: Things have settled down in Steve's life. The team of Avengers is functioning, he has a lovely house in Brooklyn, and good friends to spend time with. Bucky is safe and free, well enough to get by on his own. In comparison, it should be a small thing that he hasn't wanted to spend any more time with Steve than he's had to over the last couple of years.Steve should be happy, yet the winter has been wearing him down, and it's only getting worse after the holidays. He knows he's struggling, but doesn't know how to turn it to better. A Friday night in early January offers a surprise, though, in the form of Bucky asking to spend some time together.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 92
Kudos: 255





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're having a dismal winter in my corner of the world (more precisely, we haven't really had a winter at all, just an endless November), but at least I can write a lovely winter romance for Steve and Bucky.
> 
> Canon compliant only up to CATWS, and the rating is the best current guess. It'll probably stay at M, but the muse could decide otherwise.
> 
> The story is mostly written, I'll still need to wrap up the last couple of chapters. I'm aiming for a reasonable posting schedule, once or twice a week.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It had started snowing by the time Steve emerged from the train at Cortelyou Road, and he thought many people would have enjoyed it, loved how picturesque it made the city appear under the lights, but it only dragged his mood down as he started the short walk toward his home. Small relief was the fact that everyone was already used to the idea of Captain America living in a house in Flatbush and regularly commuting via train to the Avengers Tower, and so he could usually count on being left alone. Sometimes tourists got too excited, but his fellow Brooklynites tended to glare them into submission, which Steve definitely appreciated. That day his commute had been completely uneventful, he might have been anyone, and he was grateful for it because his mood was not suited for company.

He didn’t really have a reason why he was feeling down, nothing special had happened recently. It had been like that ever since the end of the holidays when people had gone back to their regular lives; for him it had come with a down turn. Or perhaps it stemmed from earlier than that, he knew he hadn’t quite had his usual amount of energy during the fall, and it was only now that he wasn’t distracted by the festivities that he fully noticed it. Whatever the source or reason, he was feeling lethargic and uninspired, going through the motions of his life without deriving any particular joy from it.

A gust of wind blew along the street, and Steve drew his shoulders up, trying to shelter himself, but it didn’t really help much. He’d already turned up his collar and tugged down the hat that Natasha had knitted, and besides, it wasn’t that he was cold, really. He just felt the echoes of unpleasantness that winter often brought to his mind. Right then, it felt like spring was far away.

It wasn’t that far to his house from the train, and usually the walk was pleasant, even enjoyable, but now his mood dragged him down, and it felt at least three times longer than usual. He paid barely enough attention to make sure he didn’t bump on anyone as he went, and when he turned to his street he saw it was completely empty, and so he drew even closer into himself, eyes cast down. He was a bit later than usual so most people had already arrived from work some time ago, and the weather had probably driven them in. The houses were brightly lit, illuminating the falling snow, but it didn’t manage to cheer him up either.

His head was bowed down to shield his face from the snow that was coming down thick now, swirling around him, and because of this it was only when he turned to take the last few steps leading to his house he realized someone was already standing on his porch.

“Hi,” Bucky said, stuffing his phone into a pocket. There was a bit of snow clinging to his shoulders and hat, but not too much, which meant he must have waited under the shelter since before the snowfall got heavy.

Steve shook himself once he’d climbed up the stairs, trying to make sure he wouldn’t bring too much snow inside, and at the same time quickly eyed Bucky all over. There wasn’t anything unusual about him, nor did he appear worried. In fact, he seemed almost at ease, which was a change from his usual demeanor at least in Steve’s presence.

Steve still asked, “Is everything okay?” 

It was a reasonable assumption, because they hadn’t really spent time together recently, not since Bucky had been acquitted and allowed to live wherever he wanted to.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Bucky said, and glanced down, obviously hesitating, which was another odd thing. Usually when he needed to talk to Steve, he’d clearly decided what he needed to say beforehand, and took care of things as efficiently as possible. “I just, I thought we might hang out. I brought beer.” Bucky gestured down to a reusable grocery bag at his feet.

Steve blinked, staring at Bucky for a moment, because the suggestion was so unexpected that he at first didn’t know how to respond. Obviously he wanted to spend time with Bucky, had wanted it all this time, but he’d thought Bucky had decided their old friendship was too much of a burden, because he’d kept barriers up between them. This reaching out came out of nowhere, and as a result, Steve had approximately a million questions chasing each other inside his head.

In the end, he asked none of them, and just stepped up to open the door and gestured Bucky inside. He didn’t miss the relief in Bucky’s posture, he’d probably expected he’d have to explain, and hadn’t really wanted to. Yet, he’d come, and Steve decided that for now they could just hang out together and try to have a nice evening between the two of them. Maybe this was the first step toward building their relationship anew, and they’d be able to talk later, once they were on a less uncertain ground.

“You could have come inside to wait,” Steve said, laying his palm on the scanner to inactivate the security system. “Pretty sure you could have disabled this.”

“Sure, but not without Jarvis knowing something was wrong, and it would have set a wrong tone for today if you got alerted to a burglar in your house,” Bucky replied, seeming to relax even more as he removed his grey hat and hung up his blue coat. Steve had noticed recently he usually didn’t wear black these days.

As he went to the kitchen, it suddenly struck Steve that this was the first time Bucky was at his house, and he glanced back to see him looking around, taking everything in. Steve thought the house was reasonably comfortable even though he’d never quite managed to finish decorating it, and it was probably very obvious he spent most of the time he was awake elsewhere.

“I’m starving,” Steve said. “Pizza okay?”

“That’d be great.” Bucky pulled two beers out of the bag and popped them open with his left hand, offering one to Steve, who took it and asked him to put the rest in the fridge while he looked up the app for his favorite pizzeria on his phone.

They ordered four pizzas and ate most of them. They didn’t really talk that much, instead they put on a movie and spent a couple of hours on the couch, eating and drinking. Steve didn’t ask why Bucky had come or why he’d stayed away for so long, and Bucky didn’t offer an explanation, but it was easy and comfortable to just be together. By the end of the second movie when Bucky said his goodbyes, Steve felt much better than he had just hours earlier when he’d been on the way home, expecting a lonely night.

He went to bed soon after tidying up, and slept all through the night without nightmares.

* * *

Steve woke up early the next morning to six inches of new snow, pristine and white under the sunrise, and after a quick breakfast he dressed up warmly to account for the crisp weather that had followed the snowfall. He quickly shoveled the snow down his path, cleaned the sidewalk in front of his house, and continued up the driveway that led to the garage at the back corner of his yard. It had been one of the features that led him to choose the house, many of the places they’d looked at hadn’t had anywhere to park except by the street, and Steve had wanted to keep his bike at least in a shelter. The garage was cramped, but it did fit both his bike and car, and it was all he needed.

By the time he’d finished his own yard, some of his neighbors had come out to clear the snow around their houses, and Steve waved in greeting before heading across the street to see to the sidewalk in front of the Rosenberg house. It was Saturday, after all, but it wasn’t the only reason. He’d started to help them with the snow more often this winter since they had a colicky baby and Jake worked long hours to help cover his mother’s medical bills. The older Mrs Rosenberg lived with Jake and Iris, had done so since her cancer diagnosis. She was getting better to everyone’s relief, but it all meant the whole family tended to be chronically tired, and Steve helped with the snow whenever he could, and got asked to share a dinner every now and then in return. He didn’t consider it necessary, but he also knew they felt better when he agreed, not to mention everything was always delicious. He also had a soft spot for their baby daughter, not the least because her name was Sarah.

From the Rosenbergs’ he went a couple of houses over to Mrs Lombardi’s and started on her sidewalk. She was a widow and lived alone. Her children visited relatively often, but they couldn’t come at all times, and she was getting old enough that working in the cold would have been risky for her. She reminded Steve of Mrs Costa, who’d lived next door to the Barnes family. They were similar in that they had no patience for nonsense, which Steve liked even though it sometimes meant almost accidentally divulging his secrets when he got chastened for beating around the bushes. She gave good advice in return for his confidence, so Steve didn’t really mind.

She came to stand on her porch when Steve was finishing, surveying his work, and nodding at last. “Come and have some coffee,” she commanded before turning to go back inside.

Mrs Lombardi made coffee that was always strong and perfect in her small pot on stove top, and served it from tiny porcelain cups. She’d once told Steve that the set had been a wedding present and she’d initially saved it for special occasions, but at her old age she’d realized that they gave her more joy in use than they did in the china cabinet. The way she’d looked at him had made it clear she’d meant for him to consider her words more closely, relating to other things as well, and it was probably deserved, considering he had tended to wait too long when it came to personal aspects of his life.

“You look elated,” she said when she’d served him coffee and cookies. “You’ve been very serious recently, more than usual, but today you can’t seem to stop smiling.”

She was right, Steve had felt buoyed ever since the previous night, and it had carried over to the morning. He hadn’t really considered it before she mentioned it, but in retrospect it would have surprised him if the change in his mood hadn’t been clearly visible. He could feel the smile widening even now that he thought about the reason.

“A friend visited me yesterday,” he admitted, and watched her eyes crinkle with an answering smile.

“That must have been some visit. I see people coming to see you all the time, and there's never a change like this in your demeanor.”

It was then, seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes, that Steve realized she might have drawn a spectacularly wrong conclusion, and that a simple denial probably wouldn't be taken very seriously. Still, he had to try and clarify the situation, because if Bucky was to visit him again, sooner or later he’d likely meet Mrs Lombardi, and the last thing Steve wanted was for him to be uncomfortable because of a simple misunderstanding. It meant he'd have to be more honest and open than he'd originally planned. 

“It’s just that I’d thought he didn’t want to be my friend anymore. Lately we’ve only seen each other when necessary, but yesterday he turned up and just wanted to hang out.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful now, and Steve was sure she’d understood. “Friendships are complicated sometimes,” she said, and now her look was knowing. “Especially old ones, those that come with a lot of history.”

Steve had never talked about Bucky with her, had never actually talked about anything to do with his past, being Captain America, or about the Avengers, and he’d liked being able to just be her neighbor Steve. He’d never believed she didn’t know, just that she’d chosen to treat him like this, and that she’d probably sensed his relief for it. It wasn’t that big a leap to Bucky from what he’d said, considering the Winter Soldier trial and acquittal had been very public.

“I don’t really know what it means yet,” Steve admitted. “I’m just glad even for this small thing. Or a big thing, really.” He smiled again, unable to contain it.

The discussion moved to other topics, and Steve lingered a moment after finishing his coffee, but said goodbyes soon enough, knowing at least one of her grandchildren was likely to come and meet her for the Saturday lunch. It was now busier outside, more people were clearing out their yards, and there were kids out playing in the snow. He exchanged a few words with his neighbors before getting back to his house, but remembered when he was putting his shovel away that his fridge was almost empty, so he just picked up his reusable bags and headed out again.

Forty minutes later he was back, putting everything away. He didn’t really cook that often at home, he spent so little time there that it was more practical to get takeout, or just go somewhere, especially considering the variety available these days. He did like to make a more complicated breakfast at least on one of the days on the weekends he spent at home, though, slowly expanding his repertoire of breakfast foods. Lunch and dinner varied, he tended to get lost in his painting or reading so that when he realized it was time for a meal he was too hungry to cook and ended up getting takeout, or he went out to eat with friends. He of course saw most of them during the week as well, but it was nice to spend time together at leisure. It had been Sam’s idea at first, seeing that both Steve and Nat were fairly bad at keeping the boundary between professional and personal, so they’d started having dinners during which it was explicitly forbidden to talk about work. In retrospect, Sam had definitely been right, because Steve had learned a lot more about the two of them since they’d started. He suspected Natasha had known all about the both of them regardless, but perhaps for her the benefit was getting to the habit of sharing things about herself instead.

Steve knew he spent a lot of time with things related to his work, even when his job felt kind of ephemeral at times, because there wasn’t really a structure to being an Avenger. In recent years he’d tried to build up boundaries and make time for other things, like his art and reading for fun, but he knew he was only sporadically successful at it. He tried to keep the weekends at least his own, but unfortunately Hydra and other groups hadn’t received the memo, and so he succeeded only about three quarters of the time. He also considered it fairly ironic that he spent almost more time at the Tower than at home, certainly more of his waking time, when the initial reason for buying the house had been to get away.

After the collapse of SHIELD, they’d regrouped at the Tower, because it had been logical to have the Avengers living close together, it had been safe, and Tony had had the means to analyze all the data Natasha had released. Tony had been happy to have them all there, in fact the apartments they’d been given had been suspiciously suitable for each of their preferences, even when Tony had refused to comment on it. It hadn’t taken long for Steve to realize that Tony would go to almost any length of trouble for those he’d bonded with, and that saving the world had acted as a very efficient glue.

For all that they’d had everything they needed or could have asked for, Steve hadn’t really enjoyed living in the Tower, or on Manhattan for that matter. Living in the city didn’t bother him, but he preferred a slightly less busy areas, where businesses were related to people’s daily lives and needs rather than being major corporations. He’d felt relatively at home living at Dupont Circle in D.C., but living in Stark Tower felt like staying at a hotel, not a home.

For the first couple of years after he’d been found Steve hadn’t really thought of making a home for himself. He’d had apartments first in New York and then in D.C., because he’d needed to live somewhere, but they had never felt like home, nor had he had any desire to make them so. He’d missed home, but to him home had been a when, not where, and he’d missed so much of the past that for a long time he hadn’t been able to even conceive the idea that the word would come to mean something else.

It had, though, bit by bit over two years. He had started to recover, and he’d arrived at a place where he felt he was ready to do more than just throw himself into a job. He’d been ready to look forward again and to actively make new connections. It had started with Sam, his first friendship that had happened just because, not via work or people he’d used to know before crashing the Valkyrie, which, now that he thought about it, was a huge red flag about his mental state and the way he’d been micromanaged by SHIELD. At least he was doing much better now, able to actually see the problems he’d had, and to acknowledge that he still wasn’t quite on the level ground.

He would never know if he’d have slowly climbed his way out of the pit of misery and made himself a regular life in D.C., because he’d found out about Hydra hiding in SHIELD and Bucky, and it had once more drastically changed the course of his life.

Soon after returning to New York, he’d started to think that maybe there was a place for a home in this time after all, and that maybe he’d be able to make one for himself. He’d also thought that maybe, if he had a home waiting, Bucky would come back to him. It had been a delicate hope, so fragile he’d barely acknowledged it even to himself, knowing there were many possible reasons why it might never happen. Still, despite its frailty, it hadn’t been extinguished for a long time.

What had spurred Steve on to action had been Jarvis uncovering what had happened to the Starks while sifting through the information. Steve hadn’t known before then, the file Natasha had brought him had only contained information from the early days of the Winter Soldier, and while he’d independently looked through some of the SHIELD data, he hadn’t happened to that piece of information before then. He’d considered the possibility, that perhaps the Starks had been killed rather than dying in an accident, because he’d seen evidence of Hydra worrying about Howard, and he’d also considered the possibility of them having dispatched the Winter Soldier, because they usually had done so with high profile priority targets. He’d had no evidence, though, and he hadn’t said anything to anyone while waiting to see if more information lay somewhere in wait.

The truth hadn’t been what he’d wanted, and while it hadn’t changed his perception of Bucky, for Tony it had been much more difficult to swallow. For a long time things had been tense between them, exacerbated by the fact that Steve had argued very hard against Tony’s Ultron plan.

For several months their work environment had been strained. Tony had ultimately come to decide the risks with the Ultron project were too big, especially when Rhodey had pointed out he needed to consider the perspective of other nations and people in general, how they would see a private citizen having a weapon that was capable of decimating nations continuously monitoring the world. Ultron had been pretty much the same as Insight in practice even though Tony’s reasoning had been different, and Steve was forever grateful that Rhodey had agreed with him when it came to the dangers and had been able to convince Tony of it as well. 

It had taken longer for Tony to accept Bucky wasn’t responsible for what Hydra had made him do. Understandably they weren’t exactly comfortable with each other even now, several years on, but there was at least understanding which Steve considered was reasonable enough. 

After the first arguments when they’d learned of the Starks, when no one had had any inkling of Bucky’s whereabouts, Steve had started looking for a place for himself, because he’d thought it would probably be easier for them to mend their relationship with Tony if they weren’t continuously in each other’s space. It had been easy to decide on Brooklyn, but beyond that, he hadn’t had a very solid idea. His old neighborhood was very different from what he remembered, and even then, he hadn’t been sure he wanted quite that much familiarity. He’d wanted a new start, after all.

Natasha had emerged from wherever she’d gone after testifying to the Congress, and she’d helped him navigate the real estate market. She’d also recommended buying a house rather than an apartment, because if someone decided to attack him, there’d be a smaller chance of casualties. While living in a city meant there would always be people nearby and at risk, it would be significantly reduced if he didn’t share a wall with others.

Money hadn’t been a problem, Steve had his back pay as well as his SHIELD salary and hazard pay, all of it sensibly invested also with Natasha’s advice, and so he could take his pick from a reasonable variety of houses. The cost had still felt like an imaginary number, he’d mostly gotten used to the prices of the things he needed regularly, but the cost of a house was still another matter. It was almost easier that way, not really having a concept of how expensive it was, the same way he had a hard time conceptualizing the balance of his investment account sometimes. It allowed him not to fret over it like he sometimes found himself doing in a grocery store.

They’d found a house for him in Flatbush, so big that it had felt almost too luxurious to Steve, but Natasha had pointed out it was large enough that he’d be able to have guests over and set up a studio for himself. It had looked a bit shabby inside, but the problems had only been cosmetic, the building itself was solid and the hardwood floors and staircases were in good repair. Over the first months, when he’d needed a distraction from their argument with Tony and there had been no signs of Bucky nor a Hydra base to bust, he’d put much of his energy into renovating the house. He hadn’t made too many changes, just removed old wallpaper, painted all the rooms, and ordered new kitchen appliances and cabinets. The bathrooms had been renovated fairly recently, which meant he didn’t have to do anything about them, and it had made it possible for him to move in right away, just work on one room at a time.

After the house had been finished, he’d tackled the yard. It wasn’t very big, but the previous owner had been fairly old and hadn’t had the energy to do much, so there had been some weeding and neatening to be done. He’d met most of his neighbors while working on his yard, it had given them an easy subject to break the ice over. It had been several years since he’d moved in, and he now had a house that he’d learned to think of as home, even though things with Bucky hadn’t happened the way he’d secretly wished.

* * *

The feeling of lightness followed Steve into the work week, and even the fact that they needed to have some discussions about the procedure review scheduled with the UN, discussions which tended to be tedious even though they were important, Steve felt energized and ready to face whatever was thrown at him, even meetings that took all day.

On Monday morning they had a meeting with all the active Avengers, checking in after holidays when they’d only seen each other sporadically. In general all of them appeared rested and eager to get back to work, none of them apparently feeling the post-holiday emptiness that Steve had before seeing Bucky on the Friday evening. It was probably a sign it wasn’t really the time of the year that was the problem, but himself. The general good mood made things easier, though, everything was handled quickly without the usual bickering. Even Pietro refrained from needling Tony, which happened so rarely Steve remembered each occasion. The twins no longer held a grudge toward Tony for their parents’ deaths, but they weren’t casually friendly either. Still, it was the biggest rift among them at least right now, which left everyone able to work together very well for once, and it was what Steve really cared about.

After the meeting Sam left to go to the VA, where he still consulted along with his work as an Avenger, Tony and Bruce headed for the lab, and Peter to his classes at the university. Steve had a lunch meeting scheduled with Nat, Rhodey, and Maria, because the four of them would handle the talks with the UN on behalf of the Avengers. Before he started toward the assigned conference room, he was pulled aside for a moment by Wanda.

“Pietro and I are seeing James this afternoon. Did you want us to give him a message?”

It wasn’t an unusual question, she was aware of their history, as well as the fact that Bucky and Steve’s relationship had been strained since the twins had come to New York with Bucky. She usually offered to deliver messages, and up until now Steve had thought it was for his benefit, because for someone like Wanda, who couldn’t help but catch the most intense emotions people had even without really trying to see their minds, it probably was painfully obvious how much Steve missed Bucky. Since the previous Friday, Steve wasn’t so sure anymore. Now he suspected that Bucky might have also been missing him, and she’d done the mitigating for both their behalf.

“Nothing special, just say hello from me. I saw him on Friday, and not much has come up since then.”

She looked a bit surprised, but smiled, and gave him a hug before leaving with his brother. Steve had always gotten along very well with them, mostly because they’d stayed with him for a while after first arriving in New York. Staying at the Tower had been out of the question for them, but they’d needed somewhere they were supported. Nowadays they had their own apartment, and were studying in addition to working as Avengers, and Steve was delighted with how well they were doing. He was also glad they were fast friends with Bucky, who did get along with Natasha and spent some time with Clint and Sam, but as far as Steve knew didn’t really trust any of them the way he trusted the twins.

He turned to head for the conference room he was supposed to go next, and Natasha fell in step with him.

“That explains why you’re so chipper,” she said. “Should have known it was because James had talked to you, not something random.”

Beyond the twins, she was the one Avenger Bucky voluntarily talked about himself and his past, and Steve had always been glad for it, because he trusted her to support him, but it hadn’t come without its own conflict. It was sometimes hard to swallow that his friend, who also had some kind of an undisclosed history with Bucky, was allowed close, while he wasn’t. He’d never breathed a word of it to anyone, but he was fairly sure she was aware of his feelings.

He was suddenly worried as well, because while he knew Natasha would take Bucky’s wellbeing into account, she was also his friend, and he couldn’t help but fear his and Bucky’s wishes might be incompatible.

“Did you put him up to it?” The question came out more heated than he’d meant for it to, and when she raised her eyebrow he drew a deep breath, reaching for calm again. “I just don’t want him to feel like he has to spend time with me. I’d rather we kept going as we have until now than have him put into a position he doesn’t actually want to be in.”

She hooked an arm around his elbow, smiling. “Did it feel like he was forced?”

The question made Steve pause, because it hadn’t. The impression he’d got had been that after getting past the initial awkwardness, Bucky had genuinely enjoyed their evening together, and Steve was confident enough to say he hadn’t been pretending.

“So what was it then?” he asked. “Obviously I’m glad he came to see me, but it didn’t really make sense considering he’s spent the last couple of years basically avoiding me as much as possible.”

“You’re going to have to ask him. For the record, all I told him was that if he wanted to repair your relationship, he’d have to make the first move, because considering everything that has happened, you would never push him.”

She patted him on the hand, slipped her arm free and entered the conference room. Steve took a couple of calming breaths, knowing that even though all he wanted to do was consider the new information about Bucky, the meeting was important and his colleagues deserved him to be on top of his game.

* * *

It had been nearly two years since the fight on the helicarrier when Steve had seen Bucky again. He’d received a message, from an anonymous source to his relatively public email. He’d kept an eye on it just in case Bucky would try to contact him, and he’d been more than a bit smug when it had happened, despite Natasha repeatedly telling him it was unlikely because the Winter Soldier had much better tradecraft than just emailing him. Steve had pointed out that Bucky probably wouldn't expect him to know all the minutiae, and had not so gently needled her about it all the way to Bucharest. An email with a detail no one but the two of them would know had made his hopes skyrocket, probably more than had been wise.

Natasha had put her foot down when it came to Steve going alone, even when he’d argued he didn't want to spook Bucky. She’d pointed out they couldn't know how much Hydra had gotten out of Bucky, even seemingly irrelevant details, because those could always be used for conditioning. Steve had had to admit it was a possibility, and so Natasha and Sam had tagged along, with Thor on speed dial for backup.

It hadn’t been a trap, but there had still been a surprise; Bucky had turned up with a pair of teens who’d been coerced by Hydra to take part in an experiment that had given them powers. Bucky had happened upon the Hydra cell and gotten them out, and later he’d covertly leaked the intelligence regarding the base to the Avengers. With the confusing evidence of human experiments it had been impossible to tell that that two of them had disappeared earlier. They’d found some data on the twins, but had suspected they’d left with Hydra, and it had been a relief to find out they wouldn’t have to worry about coming against them at some point.

For a while Wanda and Pietro had hidden with Bucky, but it had been a difficult life, not to mention Bucky had come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be able to rid himself of the triggers without help, and so they’d agreed to contact Steve despite the fact that the twins didn’t trust Tony at all.

It had taken some maneuvering, but in the end they’d all gone to New York, and Bucky had received help from a medical team consisting of thoroughly vetted experts, with Helen Cho overseeing them. It would have been impossible to hide from the government for long, and they’d chosen to liaise with the Army, treating Bucky as a returning veteran who’d been a prisoner of war, true enough even though his case was unique. It had taken another couple of years to sort out the Hydra conditioning, during which they’d also had to wage the legal battle to do with Bucky’s past as the Winter Soldier. In the end, Bucky had been free both legally and from Hydra’s control of his mind, although Steve knew it didn’t mean Bucky still didn’t need to continue recovery.

Steve’s dream of sharing his home with Bucky hadn’t come true, because at first they’d needed somewhere more secure, and a covert Army base upstate had done the job. Steve had visited as often as he’d been allowed, even though his conversations with Bucky had been mostly neutral or even clinical, personal only occasionally when Bucky had asked him to verify some memories. Bucky had never asked him to stop coming, and so he’d persisted, even though every visit drove home the awareness that it was looking less and less likely they’d ever recover their friendship.

Instead, Steve had opened his home to the twins, who he was determined to help first because Bucky had chosen to do so, and very soon for themselves. They’d been wary of him at first, but slowly the trust between the three of them had grown, and in time Wanda and Pietro had made the transition to where they were able to live on their own. They still regularly visited him, in addition to seeing him because of Avenger business.

When Bucky had been let loose, Steve had offered him a place to stay, but had been turned down very decidedly. Bucky had also refused to work with the Avengers, a decision Steve had had a few fights over with people who’d thought Bucky should pay his debts to society by fighting for them. In Steve’s books, Bucky had nothing to give to anyone, and should be allowed to live his life the way he chose. It included making a life separate from Steve, because while Bucky was still required to check in to make sure his conditioning wasn’t returning, and Steve was his liaison toward the Army, something Steve was pathetically glad for that Bucky trusted him to do it, they hadn’t been in contact outside official business until the previous Friday.

It had also been the only point of contact. A week went by, and Steve hadn't heard from Bucky again, nothing at all. As days passed, he found himself staring at his phone every once in a while, no purpose to it, no reason for picking it up and turning the screen on. There were often messages, but never from Bucky, never the one he wanted.

He couldn't help the doubts that kept bubbling up in his mind, couldn't help but wonder if his hopes that had slowly kindled just a week ago were about to be dashed again. On the train back home at the end of the week, an empty weekend ahead of him, it was hard to let them go, and he had to fight against the sadness trying to descend on him. He didn't want to be depressed as a result, because it was unfair to put his emotional state on Bucky, even if he would never find out.

A ray of light came with the memory of his conversation with Natasha at the beginning of the week. She'd said she’d told Bucky he'd have to take the first step, and he'd done so. Now Steve realized that perhaps she’d also been giving him advice, albeit not as directly. The relevant part was the mention of the first step; that had belonged to Bucky. It had been his choice to open the door, but perhaps it was now Steve's turn to take the second step. He'd have to be the one to walk through the opening.

It could have been a different sort of dilemma, how to approach Bucky, but Steve decided he wouldn't make it one. There had been countless instances ever since he woke up in the future that he’d casually thought of what he’d say to Bucky, of him suddenly wanting to comment on something and be understood in a way he was never sure his new friends would. He’d always liked being able to just mention random things on a whim to Bucky, and while he’d developed such a relationship with Nat and Sam where he could just talk or text them whenever, he’d always missed being able to do so with Bucky, because often he was the first person Steve thought of. Now he realized he probably could do so again, could cultivate that side of their relationship, could introduce another mundane thing to it, similarly as Bucky had suggested a movie night. Maybe once they got familiar with the lighter side of friendship again, they’d be able to take up more serious matters as well.

It was then easy to come up with what to do, because while he’d been mulling over his situation with Bucky, he’d also been halfway irritated by a fellow commuter on the phone nearby, talking about marital troubles in far more detail than complete strangers on the train needed to know. It wasn’t the first time such a thing annoyed Steve, nor was it the first time he wanted to mention it to Bucky, so he pulled out his phone and navigated to their chain of messages. So far it had consisted of discussion about times and dates of their necessary meetings, nothing more, but now it was time to expand the range of topics.

_ Why do people talk about their private matters on the phone in too much detail? _

Once the message was sent Steve fidgeted for a second before resolving to put the phone away, because it would be ridiculous to just stare at it, waiting for the answer. It vibrated in his hand before he managed to slip it into his pocket, and when he looked at it he was a bit surprised it hadn’t been a coincidence, Bucky had indeed replied to him.

_ I know! So many moments of second hand embarrassment! _

Steve grinned, he couldn’t help it when happiness bubbled inside his chest, and he set to tapping another message, this time to ask if Bucky was free some time over the weekend. His confidence was soaring, the hope rekindled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brunch with friends, some concerning news, and a (definitely not at all romantic) walk.

Next Sunday, early enough that the snowy streets were mostly deserted, Steve stepped off his porch and headed out on foot toward north. It was only about a mile to the building where Bucky rented an apartment, no distance at all for Steve, especially on a nice crisp winter morning. He’d bundled up, wearing a hat and scarf Natasha had knitted, nice and toasty inside his coat since there was no wind. He could last the cold much better than most people, but he always cherished the moments when he didn’t have to.

Steve had always taken a modicum of comfort in the fact that Bucky had chosen to live relatively near him even when they hadn’t been close friends. Steve hadn’t really known what it meant, still didn’t, but an instinct had told him it was a good thing. He’d tried not to hope too much, but it had been impossible to not be conscious that even though he could have chosen from plenty of neighborhoods and still stayed in Brooklyn, Bucky was there within an easy reach. His apartment was in one of the tall brick buildings near the park, on the top floor with an access to the fire escape. Steve had never visited there, hadn’t even walked by the building, but he’d gotten some details from Natasha, and had a look via the virtual street view. Only once, because even that had felt like imposing on the boundaries Bucky had set up around himself.

From his discussions with the twins Steve had been aware they had a Sunday brunch with Bucky at least once a month, sometimes more often, and when they’d exchanged messages the past Friday, Bucky had invited him to join them. Steve had hedged, not wanting to change their usual dynamic in a disruptive way, but Bucky had said Wanda had kept telling him he should invite Steve too. There really had been no reason to hesitate after that, and now Steve was feeling happy and hopeful. On the way there, he stopped at a little bakery that was open on Sundays and made bagels that Steve knew the twins liked, and apparently Bucky as well, since he’d asked Steve to bring some when he’d insisted on not showing up empty handed. He got two for each of them, with lox and cream cheese for toppings.

He happened to arrive at the same time as Wanda and Pietro did, and smiled at them waving enthusiastically at him. He hadn’t doubted it when Bucky had told him they’d be happy to have him with them, but it was still good to have a visible proof. Wanda hugged him in front of the steps while Pietro pressed the doorbell, and they were immediately buzzed in. Steve suspected Bucky had waited at the window to see them arrive, his view was toward the street and probably chosen deliberately to ease his paranoia, even though it was slightly noisier there than it would have been facing toward the yard. The building itself was solid and in good repair, and everything was neat. It was a world of difference compared to their old apartments before the war, and astronomically more expensive, but Steve was only too happy to know Bucky was living comfortably these days.

The door was ajar when they arrived at the top floor, and a welcome smell of coffee greeted them when they trooped in. “Lock the door after yourselves,” Bucky called from somewhere inside the apartment, and Steve did, noting that the lock was sturdier than was probably standard, even at these kinds of well to do places. He wondered how that conversation had gone with the landlord, although they probably had been happy enough to accept if Bucky had paid for it.

He accepted the hanger that Wanda gave him for his coat, and as he was pulling off his boots he looked around, taking in what little he could see. Bucky’s shoes were lined neatly on a rack under his coats, and Steve noticed there was a gun in a holster hanging from a peg in the wall, out of sight but easily within reach if needed. There was a small soft rug underneath his feet, warm orange red in color that brought out the rich tones of the wooden floor.

Steve followed the twins into the apartment, looking at everything he could see as he went. It wasn’t large but a comfortable size for a single person, certainly much bigger than any of the apartments they’d ever shared. It was obvious Bucky had wanted to make it a home for himself rather than just a place he was living in even though he’d rented it. He’d used colors and varied materials all around the interior. There was a throw blanket in shades of green tossed over the back of the couch that Steve saw when he peeked into the living room, and the kitchen carried the theme from the hall, warm oranges and browns that complemented the tiles on the wall by the sink.

Bucky was pouring out mugs of coffee, and handed them out to each of them as a greeting, made just the way each of them preferred. Steve’s was very sweet with a dash of cream in it, even though he wasn’t sure Bucky had recently seen him have coffee the way he preferred. Of course, they’d had coffee during the endless meetings and sessions they’d needed to participate in during Bucky’s recovery, but there Steve took it black, not really bothering with it since it wasn’t very good. It amused Sam, who always told him the point was to drown the awfulness of the coffee in condiments rather than suffer the full brunt of it, but for Steve it never had worked like that. Perhaps Bucky understood it, even though they’d never talked about it. Perhaps he even remembered the few precious times they’d actually had proper coffee during the war between missions in London, or back in New York when they’d been able to afford it for once.

Bucky took the bag of bagels with a smile and shooed him to sit at the table. The kitchen, same as everything in the apartment, wasn’t very big, but it fit a table and four chairs, just enough for their group. There was an assortment of fruit cut in bite size pieces on a large plate, and Bucky was preparing the bagels ready to be served, cutting them in half and toasting them. Wanda was pulling things out of the bag she’d brought, announcing, “I’m going to make blintzes,” and Pietro, never one to sit still, was sipping his coffee while wandering in and out of the kitchen.

The last of Steve’s lingering nerves settled as he took in the peaceful environment in the apartment. It felt comfortable, even familiar even though it was the first time the four of them spent time together. There were ties between all of them, and they seemed to be enough to pull the whole group together now that Bucky was ready to reconnect with Steve.

Steve still didn’t know why Bucky had withdrawn, nor did he know why he was now invited in, but it didn’t matter. He was sure he’d find out in time, and for now he was content to enjoy the newly reacquired closeness.

Wanda whipped up the batter for the blintzes, and while it rested they ate the bagels and fruit, talking about the shows they’d watched and books they’d read, about things that were easy and comfortable. Pietro fried the blintzes while Wanda made the filling and roped Steve into helping her to fill and fold them. Bucky brewed a pot of tea, lovely and fragrant, over which they lingered after everything had been eaten.

It was past midday when the twins left, saying they had some schoolwork to do. Steve lingered, helping Bucky to tidy up the kitchen, washing the pans while Bucky filled the washer with plates and mugs. Afterward Bucky invited him to the living room, which was decorated mostly in shades of green along with the earth tones and dark wood, some flashes of blue here and there. Bucky’s couch was very comfortable, and he clearly spent a lot of time reading. He had plenty of shelf space dedicated to books, not all of it filled yet but considering how much he’d already managed to gather, Steve suspected he’d fairly soon have more books than he had space for. Some books were new but a lot of them were clearly bought used, and there were titles Steve recognized and others that were new. On a small table within reach from the corner where Bucky probably sat often, judging from the placement of the reading lamp, was a pile of books a foot high.

Bucky pulled a volume out and handed it to Steve. It was a title Bucky had mentioned during their meal, something Steve hadn’t read.

“I think you’ll like it,” Bucky said and shrugged. 

“Guess we’ll see.”

There was a pause, the both of them hesitating, because it was a moment the visit could have ended, but Steve didn’t really want to leave yet, and it seemed Bucky was reluctant to have him go as well. Before the war it would have been easy to just suggest something else to do, would have been natural to not leave, but now there was a sense of almost shyness between them that they’d have to learn to navigate. Sometimes Steve could just force his way through the barriers of uncertainty, but when it came to his relationship with Bucky it wasn’t so easy now, because he didn’t want to cause accidental damage. Of course, he’d started to think he perhaps had been too cautious, and considering how Bucky had seemed like he wanted more but was hesitant to go for it since their night of movies, Steve figured it was probably relatively safe to push once more.

“If you wanted, we might watch a movie maybe, and go get some food after,” Steve suggested, and the minute tension that had come to Bucky while they hesitated fell away.

“Got suggestions?”

“I have too many, everyone keeps mentioning things I should watch according to them.” Steve pulled out his notebook and handed it to Bucky, opened to the page where he kept jotting down the movie titles.

“Well, I’m sure some of these are on Netflix,” Bucky decided, and picked up the remote.

They watched a movie, and afterward went out to a Mexican restaurant for an afternoon meal that just barely could be called an early dinner. Steve liked the cuisines with hearty and flavorful dishes, they filled him up satisfyingly, and Bucky’s tastes seemed to align with his quite often. They parted when leaving the restaurant, agreeing to meet at the Tower the next Tuesday for one of Bucky’s mandatory checkups, and there was a spring in Steve’s step when he walked back home.

In bed that night, he opened the book Bucky had given him, and decided it had been another very good day, one of the best he’d had since waking up in the future.

* * *

There'd been conditions to Bucky’s freedom, and one of them was a continued monitoring of his health, presumably in case he was relapsing somehow back into his conditioning. Steve had hated it, even when Bucky had at least appeared to take it calmly enough, but it had helped when it had been agreed that the same team that had worked on his recovery did the monitoring, and Steve was the only one who got the more thorough reports, the government would make do with simple statement from him that there were no problems. There were allowances to patient confidentiality, but Steve still knew more than he was comfortable with.

So far Bucky had always been almost expressionless during these sessions, at least when Steve was around. They always gathered together, and Steve waited in a conference room nearby while Bucky was given his physical and chatted with the evaluating psychiatrist. Afterward they reconvened in the conference room, Steve was given the report, and he passed the necessary part onward. He’d sometimes tried to suggest it was enough for him if they told him only what he needed to pass on, but they’d pointed out it was better for Bucky to follow the conditions to the letter; Steve had to know, even when the details didn’t go forward.

“I still don’t like this,” he muttered over his coffee that Tuesday morning, and Bucky flashed him a smile. He’d arrived at the Tower a bit earlier than usual, looking Steve up at the floor that housed the Avengers’ operational headquarters. He’d brought a coffee for Steve, along with one for himself, a sweet concoction topped with whipped cream, the kind that Steve usually didn’t bother buying for himself even though he liked them. Bucky had brought him one though, relaxed and smiling when he’d called out his greeting, and Steve had filed away the fact that Bucky clearly liked the sweet drinks.

“I really don’t mind that you get to hear these things. I’m glad you fought about it so hard that they agreed not every government official has to see them, though,” Bucky said as they waited for the elevator to take them to the floor of the medical center.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Natalia says it’s probably good, too, in case something starts deteriorating, because even if I were to be, and I’m quoting, a martyr about it, you’d bully me into getting the best care available.”

Steve grinned at Bucky’s imitation of Natasha’s tones. “That sounds like her, alright.”

Steve had meant to do some paperwork while he waited for Bucky’s checkup to be completed, but he ended up navigating to his drawing app instead. There’d been one on the very first Stark pad he’d had for work, and while Tony had seen him doodle with it sometimes, he’d never said anything about it. However, when there had been an update of security features and operating system, Steve had seen that the drawing app had also been upgraded into something a lot more flexible and with more brushes and effects. It had been updated regularly ever since, and these days the app was available for free on all operating systems, not just on Stark devices, and because it was of professional quality and yet not expensive, especially students and amateur artists used it. Steve liked it, and he’d made a habit of casually mentioning things he liked about it and others that could use fine tuning, and he’d also made a habit of emailing Tony drawings. The latest had been a portrait of Morgan, Steve had had plenty of reference even outside of his photographic memory, because Tony kept sending the team an obnoxious amount of baby photos.

He didn’t get much drawing done that day, finding it even harder than usual to concentrate. Over the years since Bucky had come back, he’d gotten used to how these days went, but now it was different. Everything was different with Bucky’s changed demeanor, and he wondered what would happen afterward. He knew the medical checks were difficult for Bucky, exhausting, and he might not be up to getting a late lunch afterward the way Steve cautiously hoped they would, there was every chance he’d just want to go home. Maybe, if Bucky wouldn’t prefer being alone, they could order in instead of braving the crowds.

Steve’s haphazard plans were forgotten when Bucky came back to the conference room, flanked by Doctor Friedmann, Bucky’s evaluating psychiatrist, and Helen. Steve immediately knew there was news, and that it was at least somewhat concerning, based on the frown on Helen’s face and the fact that Bucky was clearly annoyed. Doctor Friedmann was composed as ever, but Steve knew she always was, something that had been especially valuable during the more volatile periods of Bucky’s recovery.

Doctor Friedmann gave her report first, and it was much like usual, that there were no signs of deterioration of Bucky’s mental state nor return of the triggers. She did smile a bit at the end, her expression less formal, when she said, “I was happy to note the improved mood.” She didn’t say anything else about it, but Steve was fairly sure it was related to their reconnection. He’d been tentatively considering how much happier Bucky appeared, but it was good to hear the same assessment from someone else. It had definitely improved his own mood, and it would have been a shame if it hadn’t been mutual.

It was a relief to know that the cause for concern wasn’t Bucky’s mental state, but it still didn’t mean Steve was particularly at ease when Doctor Friedmann had said her goodbyes and left. The other lasting concern was Bucky’s arm, and it turned out to be the reason why Helen and Bucky both had appeared uneasy.

“We already knew the arm is so heavy it causes balance issues. We’ve tried to combat it with physical therapy and regular exercises, and so far it’s been working,” Helen said, and Steve nodded, all of this familiar to him. “However, it appears the shoulder connection is nearing the end of its usable period. It’s durable, but it won’t last forever, and it’s now showing signs of erosion, which in turn is aggravating the tissues around the area. It’s not an immediate concern, we can combat the possible inflammation and pain for a while, but the sooner Bucky decides how he wants to proceed, the better it is.”

Bucky looked like the last thing he wanted was to have to think of his arm, and Steve had also hoped this day would come much later down the line, when Bucky was more settled, but it wasn’t to be. Steve wanted to help him with this, but even with their recent getting closer, he wasn’t sure if Bucky would let him. They lingered in the conference room after Helen had said goodbyes, Steve torn between asking about the arm, or just suggesting one of the plans he’d thought up while Bucky had been getting his checkup, to give him something else to concentrate on. He didn’t manage to make a decision before Bucky spoke.

“If you think about it, it’s fairly simple.” Bucky didn’t look up at Steve, instead he was drawing invisible lines on the table with his finger. “Either I get a new arm, or get rid of this one and have no arm. Or I just keep going like I have and ignore it, but I suspect you, Natalia, the twins, and Doctor Cho would all lecture me about it, not to mention I’d have to endure the interrogation from Doctor Friedmann regarding my decision.”

Steve had almost protested before Bucky conceded the last part, and now he smiled a bit sheepishly. “I admit I probably would lecture you some, even though I know it’s your choice, and whatever you’ll go with, I’ll support you.”

“You’d give me the miserable puppy eyes, though, I don’t think you’d be able to resist.”

“I don’t—” Steve started, but fell quiet when Bucky lifted one of his eyebrows, an expression that he’d perfected a long time ago to ask if Steve really wanted to argue about it. The annoying thing was, he was probably right, considering both Sam and Natasha had sometimes complained about Steve’s pitiful looks.

“You definitely do. But you know why it’s tricky. There aren’t that many people who could make an arm that could take all of the conditions that already exist into account. Even less people that I’d trust to do it.”

Bucky didn’t have to say that the list was pretty much one name as far as they were aware of, and Steve knew all the reasons why Bucky was reluctant to bring Tony in, even now that the situation was getting serious. Steve knew it wasn’t a matter of trust, but of having to ask for something when he was aware Bucky didn’t think he had the right. Steve privately thought Tony probably would jump at the challenge if nothing else, but he decided to keep it to himself for now.

“And I know just taking it off so that the weight won’t bother you isn’t an option,” he just said.

“It’s not paranoia when they’re really out to get you,” Bucky sing-songed, obviously having said this before, even though it was the first time Steve heard it.

Even with the distance between them up until recently, Steve had known how hard Bucky had fought to win back his autonomy, and that he wasn’t yet at the point where he could allow himself be vulnerable. Perhaps one day in the future, but now wasn’t the time for it yet, and it meant Bucky wouldn’t put himself into a position where he’d deliberately weakened himself. It meant that for now all that could be done was to observe and deal with the symptoms.

Bucky shook his head. “I need to clear my head.” He paused, hesitating. “It’s a nice day. Want to go for a walk in the park?”

Steve had been ready to let Bucky make his way home, because he’d expected him to want to be alone, and so he had to reorient himself to the very welcome invitation. “Yeah, Buck. We can get something to eat too, if you want.”

“Let’s go, then.”

They took the train up to 77th Street, not wanting to walk so much on the streets, and headed for the park. It was indeed a beautiful day, the sun was shining from the pale blue sky, and Steve vaguely remembered the particular quality of light came from the moisture in the air freezing into tiny ice crystals, haloing the sunshine. It had snowed again during the night, and the trees and lawns were coated in pure white, with tracks here and there crossing through, although most people had stayed on the paths.

“A regular winter wonderland,” Bucky commented, and Steve was glad to see he was smiling again, his worries about the arm, if not forgotten, pushed back at least for now.

They didn’t have a plan for where they wanted to go, and every time they came to a crossing in the path they chose the direction mostly by a whim, albeit always steering so that they stayed in the park rather than ending up back to the street. They didn’t talk much, sometimes remarking on the things they saw, but mostly Steve had the impression that Bucky wanted to enjoy the relative calm of the park, and he was just glad to be involved. They walked close to each other, their sleeves brushing together sometimes, and Steve was reminded of many other walks he’d taken with Bucky in New York before the war. A lot had changed since then, but one of the things he liked was that he no longer ran out of breath in the cold.

After a while they happened near the edge of the park, and since there was a coffee shop right on the other side of the street, they popped in to get something warm to drink. They took their drinks with them, continuing their walk. There were small groups here and there also enjoying the day outside, children playing, people walking their dogs, a few couples walking slowly together and smiling at each other. It was picturesque, and Steve deliberately committed some of the scenes into memory, thinking of sketching them later. He also kept looking at Bucky, who appeared cozy in his peacoat and floppy hat, fitting into the modern world as if he’d been born seventy years later than he actually had. Steve wanted to draw him too, the yearning sudden and overwhelming.

He realized, too, that to others they probably looked like one of the couples, since they clearly weren’t doing anything but enjoying each other’s company. It struck him suddenly that it was something of a romantic scene, as if straight from one of the romance movies set in winter he’d seen, a subgenre he and Natasha both enjoyed for reasons he never had wanted to interrogate too closely inside his mind. Sam often mentioned how strange he found their fascination even when he did sit and watch the movies with them. Of course, it wasn’t a romantic scene in their reality, they’d just happened to take a walk and the surroundings had happened to be picture perfect. It didn’t mean the same thing as it did in the movies, and yet Steve found it hard to look away from Bucky, or to not think that the day was special.

Eventually, no matter how much Steve, and by all appearances Bucky as well, enjoyed the day, they did get a bit chilled, and so they headed back toward the train. Steve didn’t have anything pressing to do at work, and they journeyed back to Brooklyn together, Bucky stepping off a few stops before him.

* * *

In the evening, Steve put on the television for noise, and sat in the corner of his couch with one of his sketch pads and some pencils. He did quick studies of few of the scenes he’d seen in the park that day, an old couple walking arm in arm, a bored looking teenager with their dog, a group of children throwing snow at each other. They all came out well enough, but he found himself getting bored before he managed to add any details that would have made the drawings interesting and alive. They were only impressions, potential not quite reached, when he tore them off the pad.

He laid them out on the coffee table in front of him, considering them, before he leaned back again and propped the pad on his knee, getting back to work. This time it was easy to focus on the details he saw with his mind’s eye, photographic memory a blessing once more. There was the cable knit pattern of Bucky’s hat, the strand of hair that had come loose from his bun and curled by his cheek, the snow crystals stuck to his lashes. Every detail was there in his head, making their way onto the paper.

Steve had drawn Bucky countless times over the years, and a lot of the time he’d very carefully avoided thinking of the reasons for it, because he’d instinctively known there was a potential for complications if he really looked into his motivations. A lot of the times the reason had been simple enough; he’d needed to learn to draw the human form and Bucky had been the only person available as reference. Other times, like now, it wasn’t that simple, this sudden need to commemorate Bucky on paper.

While Steve had thought Bucky was dead, he’d drawn him sporadically, several pieces at once and months in between the bursts. It had become more regular after he’d found out Bucky was alive after all, but over the last couple of years he hadn’t drawn a single image of Bucky. When it had become apparent Bucky didn’t want anything more than what was mandatory to do with Steve, something he now knew hadn’t been quite that simple or just about what Bucky had wanted, it had felt wrong to keep drawing him, it had felt like crossing a line.

Now he felt he was allowed once more, now that Bucky had invited him back into his life, Steve was once more free with his pen. And perhaps, now that they were different people, living in a world different from the one of their youth, perhaps the reasons for wanting to draw Bucky wouldn’t put a barrier between them the way he’d always feared they would. Maybe it was now something he could let himself really look honestly into.

For now, even that revelation felt like enough for one day, and the sketch was finished anyway. Steve picked up all of the drawings and took them to his studio. There he eyed the so far empty canvas that was waiting for him on the easel, inspiration having avoided him for a while now, ever since the fall really, when his mood had taken a downward turn. Now he thought back to Bucky’s apartment, and remembered his walls were mostly bare. He could suddenly see the blues and greens that would suit the decor in Bucky’s living room, and if the light hadn’t been gone he would have started to paint at once. Instead, he needed to wait for the weekend when he’d hopefully have time during the day.

It felt like the right idea, to make something specifically for Bucky. He’d decide after it was finished whether he’d actually give it to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a trip to a museum that's totally not a date.

“It’s good to see some things never change,” came a voice from the door of the studio, and Steve whipped his head around to see Bucky leaning on the door jamb, by all appearances having stood there for a while. “I rang, but you clearly didn’t hear me, so I let myself in. You should maybe lock your doors whenever you’re engrossed in your art.”

“Not everyone can sneak at me,” Steve said, feeling like he should defend himself even though his head was light with happiness that Bucky had come to see him again.

“Pal, I wasn’t sneaking.” Bucky shook his head but grinned, and Steve smiled back, unable to do anything else. “I’m glad you’re painting again.”

It occurred to Steve then that Bucky probably hadn’t known how much art he did these days. The fact that he drew was well established, but since they hadn’t spent time together, Bucky hadn’t seen his studio until now, nor had they talked about it. There was a part of Steve that ached at the thought of all the things there must be like this about both of them, things they’d missed, but he pushed it away. They had an opportunity to find out now, and it was a good thing indeed. With that in mind, he waved Bucky over, because he was clearly waiting for permission. Steve was also grateful he’d stashed the portrait he’d drawn of Bucky earlier in the week in a pile of sketches out of the way, suddenly feeling shy of the implications of it even though it was a very good drawing. The other sketches from their walk were still on the table, and Bucky smiled when he saw them.

Steve had some of his work on display in the studio, the canvases leaned against the walls, some finished, others still obviously in progress, and he waited nervously as Bucky slowly walked around the room, taking in everything he could see. There was a small smile playing on his lips, which did rather settle Steve’s nerves, although there was some excitement left bubbling in his stomach.

Bucky finally stopped in front of the easel where Steve’s current work was sitting, the one painted mostly in blues and greens inspired by Bucky’s apartment. It was a forest scene, but not realistic, more of a fantasy in expressionist style. There were some honey brown tree trunks, some shafts of golden light, but mostly it consisted of the greens of the vegetation and the blue of the sky. Bucky stared at it for a long time, long enough that Steve couldn’t keep his nerves in check.

“I painted it for you,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it because he’d meant to approach it in a much more delicate manner. Bucky looked surprised, but pleased too, and it gave Steve the determination to continue. “I mean, if you want. I liked your living room, all the colors there, but noticed you didn’t have much on the walls. I thought I’d make something that would fit in. You don’t have to take it, though, if you don’t want to.”

He probably would have kept babbling, but Bucky grinned at him, expression warm. “It’s beautiful, and I’m absolutely taking it if you painted it for me. You’re right, it’ll fit just right on that empty wall above the couch.”

Steve relaxed, and smiled in return. He felt like he’d smiled more in just a few moments than he’d over several days. “I still need to give it some finishing touches, but I can bring it to you next weekend, I think.”

“No rush, the space on the wall isn’t going anywhere.”

Steve started to put away his brushes and cover his paints, and it occurred to him then he didn’t yet know why Bucky had come. “Did you need me for something, by the way?”

“I took a walk, and thought maybe we could get some lunch. Bet you haven’t eaten yet, either.”

“No, but I could. You in a mood for beef and broccoli?”

“You want to order Chinese?” Bucky asked.

“No, I was going to make it. It doesn’t take that long, I have a nice recipe for it.”

“Are you any better cook than you used to be? Because I remember some of your stuff was very dubious before the war.”

Steve shoved him at the shoulder as he headed toward the stairs. “Amazingly, now that I have some more resources and can get good ingredients, I'm a pretty passable cook. I mean, I’m no pro, but I’ve got some skills at least. I don’t cook every day, but I try to do so at least on weekends.”

“Show me those alleged skills, then.”

The lunch was prepared soon enough, with Bucky putting a salad together while Steve focused on the main course. They quickly set the table and sat down, and it felt almost cozier than the movie night had been, because having an ordinary lunch between just the two of them made it feel like it was just another day rather than an event of some kind, even though it absolutely was an event, there was no denying it. Right now, every time they spent time together felt like that to Steve, but this was the first time he felt the potential of this becoming something normal once more, something that wasn’t just a far fetched hope.

While they cooked and ate Steve tried to surreptitiously see if Bucky was favoring his left shoulder, or if there were any signs of pain at all. He didn’t notice anything, but he was also aware that Bucky was very good at hiding any distress these days, and that the tendency to not show any weakness was very much ingrained in him. That Steve didn’t notice anything didn’t mean there wasn’t any pain, but he didn’t ask. He would have been open to discussion, but since Bucky didn’t bring it up, he didn’t either. For one, he still wasn’t quite sure where exactly the boundaries between them lay, and he enjoyed the day so much he didn’t want to destabilize it.

Happily he didn’t have to wonder what else to talk about, something that would have been unheard of before the war but fairly common now, with so many difficult subjects always wanting to crowd his thoughts when it came to Bucky. He didn’t know if it was the same for Bucky, but if it was, he did seem the better between the two of them at coming up with things to discuss.

“Must be good now to be able to afford all the art supplies you want to, and to actually go and see the works by pros on a whim,” Bucky said when they were lingering at the table after finishing the meal. The coffee was brewing, and it still felt unbearably domestic to Steve.

“It is definitely nice, although I’m not able to take advantage of it as much as I would like to.”

“Because of your work?”

“It’s part of it, yeah.” Steve didn’t really want to get into how he too often just spent his free time mindlessly staring at the wall or otherwise not really doing anything even when he had all the opportunities now, because he didn’t want Bucky to worry. “And winters are tricky for painting, because there are less hours when the light is good.”

“Have you thought of pursuing art more?” 

It felt like Bucky was asking about more than just what the question specified, there were layers under the words that Steve couldn’t really detect, but all he could do was to answer, and hope that it would become clear later.

“Sometimes, but I don’t know where I’d start. I don’t really feel like I’d be at home going to school, not to mention the time constraints with my work. I might take some courses, but there’s still the scheduling thing.” Bucky hummed as he listened, but it didn’t really clarify to Steve if he was getting the answer for the question he hadn’t spoken out, and so he continued. “I’ve been getting back to it myself, working with colors and experimenting with some new techniques. Although I’m not that well versed with where art went during the decades I was in ice, so I don’t know if there is something new I’d like to try.”

“You’d have the resources to find out, though,” Bucky said in gentle tones, reminding him.

“Well, it’s tricky. I did go to some galleries with Pepper, but it always felt more like an event and I didn’t really have an opportunity to look at the art, because of all the small talk expected of me.”

“How about visiting museums?” Bucky pressed.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t really managed it.” It came maybe closer than Steve liked to admitting that he often had a hard time just getting up and doing things, and while Bucky didn’t expressly call him out on it, his sharp look said he’d probably figured it out.

“That’s sad, especially since you’d probably be able to go unnoticed. After all, you managed to regularly visit your own exhibit at the Smithsonian without getting mobbed, and in art museums people won’t have a million images of your face available for reference.”

There were several things Steve could have said to this, but what came out was, “How did you know I used to go to Smithsonian?”

“A little bird told me.”

Steve had suspected Natasha, but Bucky didn’t refer to her as a bird, and so Steve hadn’t any idea who it might have been. “I didn’t think you and Sam were that conversational.”

“We talk, sometimes. But Wilson is a shitbird, more like.”

Steve almost choked with laughter, because he suspected Bucky might have called Sam that to his face, and he knew exactly the expression Sam would have had hearing it. The relationship between his two friends was complicated, but he knew that if there was a need for it, they’d be in each other’s corner, no questions asked, and hearing they were talking more than he’d expected was a good thing.

“So, who was it, then?”

“Barton, obviously.”

“Ah.” Steve made a face, because he was still annoyed that while he was with SHIELD, his friends had also been a network of handlers, even though he’d been given the duties of a team leader. A lot of the ways the agency and Fury’s personal paranoias had worked still rankled him, and he never could find a regret it was gone, even with the additional difficulties that had come with filling the vacuum left by the agency.

Bucky quirked his mouth, perhaps aware of what he thought. Steve didn’t know how much Natasha and apparently also Barton had been telling Bucky of his years after the ice, but clearly some of his history had been discussed. Bucky didn’t seem too interested in pursuing the line of thought, though, which Steve was completely happy about.

“How about we do something to correct the void in your knowledge then,” Bucky suggested. “Let’s visit the Brooklyn museum, to start with something familiar.”

Steve smiled both at the idea of going together and the implication that it wouldn’t be the last time. “Right now?”

Bucky shrugged. “Or some other day. I’m not busy.”

“Weekends might be crowded, though. Maybe we should pick an afternoon during the week,” Steve suggested.

“If you can get away from your busy job.” With that, Steve started to understand where Bucky had been aiming at with his questioning. It was clear he also thought something Steve had been told time and again; that he should find more to his life than his work. Now Bucky was helping him with it, by offering company.

“I’m sure it can be arranged. We don’t really have set hours, outside of whatever crisis comes at us.” It was an admission, even if not put in words, but Steve was sure Bucky understood.

“Let’s hope all the mad geniuses and aliens stay away, then.”

* * *

“Leaving already?” Natasha asked when Steve started to put his things away. 

They’d been working side by side that day, reviewing intelligence reports to see if there was anything that looked like it would need attention from the Avengers any time soon. They’d found nothing alarming, only a few things they’d decided to keep an eye on even though there was no immediate cause for concern. Steve was glad, because he really didn’t want to postpone his plans.

Still, he had to ask, “Did you need me for something?”

She waved him away. “No, just surprised, because usually you spend a lot more time here than you really need to. I’m glad you’re going, really.”

She looked back to her screen, not asking where he was headed, which Steve suspected meant she knew already, and the question had been just to let him know she’d noticed.

“Maybe you should take some time for yourself too, considering you’re not here any less than I am,” he just said.

“Touché. I’m going for a coffee with Sam later, though. After he’s done at the VA.”

“Great. Say hi for me.”

“And you to James,” she countered, confirming that she knew of their afternoon plans. Steve didn’t mind, in fact he was glad to be able to skip the explanations.

“See you tomorrow, unless something happens before that.”

“Knock on wood.”

Steve took the stairs down rather than the elevator, despite the number of them. He was feeling unusually nervous, and decided it would be better to burn off some of the energy churning in his gut before getting on the train. Going down wasn’t much of an exercise for him, but it got him moving and it was enough to burn enough of the jitters away that he wouldn’t be fretting too much while confined during the journey.

It was ridiculous really, to be feeling nervous. He was just going to meet Bucky for an afternoon at the museum, which wasn’t that much out of the ordinary, at least historically. The art certainly wasn’t a reason to be feeling nervous, nor should Bucky have been either, considering how their recent get-togethers had gone, but there was still excitement bubbling inside Steve that was more than just happiness.

The train arrived just as he stepped onto the platform, and he texted his expected arrival time to Bucky. They’d agreed to meet at the museum, since they were coming from different directions, and while they’d agreed on a time, Bucky would be able to fine-tune his arrival to Steve’s.

The train wasn’t very full, and after sitting down Steve pulled out his phone, intending to read a bit on the way. Soon he put it away again, not being able to concentrate, and just stared at the window even though there was nothing but black and occasional flashes of light outside as they passed through the tunnels.

The ride felt much longer than it should have, but finally it was time to step out. Steve was in good time, but he still hurried up to the street level, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Bucky waiting there rather than having to walk to the museum alone. Steve sternly told his heart to calm down when Bucky smiled and handed him a coffee, still piping hot, which meant he must have timed his arrival to perfection.

“Ready to see some new art?” Bucky asked, frowning then. “Or new to you, anyway. I suspect most people wouldn’t call something made in the fifties new.”

“Definitely modern, though,” Steve grinned, and steadied his coffee when Bucky gently elbowed him. “I’m actually kind of excited to see some of my old favorites, considering this’ll be the first time I’ll see the colors properly.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Bucky said, looking thoughtful. “That’ll be a whole another kind of experience then.”

Steve was glad Bucky didn’t get tangled with the fact he apparently hadn’t quite remembered Steve’s colorblindness before serum. In the early days of his recovery, not remembering had often frustrated Bucky, but Steve knew he was dealing with the gaps better these days. It was a new normal, perhaps something Bucky had by now adjusted to.

They walked slowly, taking a small detour to finish their coffees before going in. When they finally entered, they found the museum wasn’t quiet, there were some tourists and school groups, but it wasn’t crowded either, and no one paid any attention to them as they walked slowly through the galleries.

There was so much to take in that Steve knew they wouldn’t be able to do so on one occasion, and after considering for a moment he steered them toward the American collection. Bucky followed in his wake, clearly wanting him to decide what to see. Soon enough it became apparent to Steve that he did look at art differently now, that different aspects and works caught his eye. He should have been able to expect it; after all the same thing had happened with almost everything when he’d first received the serum, the newly colored world had thrown him. By now he’d been used to it, but somehow the effect was affecting him anew when looking at art, because the pieces he expected to be his favorites weren’t so anymore, or at least not all the time.

Before, he’d gravitated toward shapes, both in sculpture and painting, and he still appreciated a good command of form, but now colors popped in a way they hadn’t before, calling for his attention. He finally stopped in front of one of Stanton Macdonald-Wright’s  _ Synchromy _ paintings, and grinned at Bucky.

“This is definitely something I couldn’t have appreciated fully before.”

Bucky looked at the label. “Painted the year I was born. Maybe you even saw it before.”

“Maybe. Don’t remember if I did.”

“I’m guessing you will now,” Bucky said with a satisfied smile. He probably had every reason to be, considering his scheme had definitely worked.

“Come on, I think this was enough for now. I can come back later.”

They headed out of the museum, deciding to walk home even though the sky was a bit grey, low-hanging clouds threatening with more snow. The park was still nice enough, though, and Steve enjoyed the walk toward home.

They’d walked for a moment when Bucky asked, “Will you? Go back later?”

“Yeah, I will.” Steve noticed Bucky glancing at him, and continued, “It feels like something let loose while we were there. I’ve had a hard time reclaiming some things I used to like, getting to painting hasn’t been easy, and I was holding myself back here too. But I will go, and I’ll try better to make time for things like this that I like.”

“Good. I’m glad. You’ve been, I don’t know how to say it. Distant, maybe? I don’t mean from me or in general, just in your demeanor. I had a hard time putting my finger on it at first, because you’re obviously as fired up as ever about many things, but it felt like there was a barrier that you kept in front of some parts of yourself, and I started to see it more clearly last fall. Maybe I was just remembering better.”

“Maybe,” Steve allowed, but decided to be honest. “I’ve been feeling kind of listless, not bored but like I’m lacking something since fall. Maybe you saw that. Today helped, so thanks for pushing me.”

“You’re welcome. Not that you should believe it’s suddenly all better, though.”

“I know, it’s not that simple. That’s why I mean to make an effort, and I believe it’ll be easier after today.”

“All we can do is try, I guess,” Bucky said, affecting a pompous voice and making Steve laugh.

“Are you trying to imitate Sam during the meetings, there?”

“He has a few good ideas,” Bucky said, with a twinkle in his eye, because of course he couldn’t just admit it without making a bit of fun.

* * *

Steve had always been a big believer in reciprocation, to a degree he knew had used to infuriate Bucky back in the day, but he wasn’t going to change, especially not now that he actually had the means of doing things for his friends. That thought had a big “especially Bucky” tacked on the end, something that probably wouldn’t have surprised anyone who knew him even a little bit.

Since Bucky had come with him to a museum, Steve wanted to do something for him, wanted to find something for them to do that Bucky would especially enjoy. He’d noticed the amount of books Bucky had in his apartment, and his first idea had been to go to a talk held by an author, but he’d dismissed it soon enough, realizing he didn’t know enough of Bucky’s preferences to pick something that Bucky would surely enjoy. He memorized the idea, because he’d learn in time, and there would be new opportunities.

In the end, he picked a talk held by some NASA scientists where they discussed the discoveries the space probe Cassini had made on Saturn and its moons. It was fascinating, entertaining to Steve as well even though he usually didn’t follow such things. He did divide his attention between the talk and Bucky, who was following it with rapt focus, completely engrossed the way Steve remembered him being when learning about some new discoveries in their youth. The couple of hours flew past, and on the way home Bucky was more talkative than Steve had seen him in a long while, as he discussed what they’d heard and of other things he’d learned beforehand. Steve mentally patted himself on the back for making the right choice.

It was nearing dinner time, and Steve wasn’t ready to part yet. He got the same feeling from Bucky, and so he suggested they should get some food. Bucky in turn suggested takeout and eating at his place, which suited Steve just fine. He thought they were probably both a little done with being in the crowd. They agreed on Mexican, and the delivery arrived almost at the same time as they did, already ravenous.

They spread the food on the kitchen table, Bucky pulled a few beers from the fridge, and they dug in. Everything was delicious and filling, and even though he was busy stuffing himself, Steve could hardly look away from Bucky, who was luminous under the friendly light in his home, happy by all appearances just spending time with Steve. It was such a drastic change from only a little while ago, Bucky having been reserved and almost skittish around him, never wanting to spend any more time with him than he’d absolutely had to. It was different now, and Steve was getting more and more curious about the reasons for the change, but it wasn’t quite the right time to ask, not yet, and he could be patient now with happiness glowing inside him, growing into something new.

It was new, or perhaps something that had been born a long time ago but was only now being allowed to flourish, being fed with Steve’s tentative hopes stemming from the way Bucky looked at him, from the changed world that was in some ways friendlier than their age had been. It still felt so fragile that Steve was afraid to even focus on it too much in his mind, and it made him even more hesitant than usual.

It was funny almost, despite how he generally wasn’t afraid of things, he definitely was cowardly when it came to confronting his own deeper emotions, good or bad. Burying them was easier, but it wasn’t good in long term, and he’d started to try and deal with his sadness in a more productive way, and with it had come a general knowledge that his shifting relationship with Bucky was also something he should try to define, and then decide how to act going forward. He still wasn’t ready to lay himself bare in front of Bucky, not when he couldn’t even name the emotion for himself, but he felt like he was almost bursting with something, and so the words escaped unchecked.

“It’s familiar like this,” he said, not quite knowing where he was going with it, but he couldn’t stop either when a curious little smile bloomed on Bucky’s face. “The two of us, just spending an evening together. But it’s different too, like something new is forming inside me.” He faltered, blushing, realizing he probably didn’t make much sense. “I don’t really know what it’s about. It’s nothing bad though.”

Bucky put down his fork, and reached across the table to squeeze Steve’s wrist, before withdrawing. “Know what I’ve learned since I got away from Hydra?”

“Probably a lot,” Steve said, aiming for a bit of levity, but it probably wasn’t very convincing when he couldn’t even get his heart rate to slow back down to its regular level.

“That it’s okay to not immediately understand. With time most things become clearer, and if your instinct says it’s nothing to worry about, then it probably isn’t. Maybe you’ll wake up one morning and just know.”

“That happen to you a lot?”

“Every once in a while. Not as often anymore, since my head is less of a patchwork.” Bucky looked up a bit sheepishly. “The last time was that Friday I showed up on your porch.”

It definitely was some kind of a confession, probably more specific than Steve’s own had been, and he smiled too, easy now with the happiness flowing back to full glow. “Whatever that epiphany was, I’m not complaining about the consequences.”

Bucky laughed at that, shaking his head a bit, but didn’t explain any further. “Neither do I.”

When they were putting the leftovers away after the meal Steve couldn’t help but notice Bucky moving his left shoulder, rotating it and stretching his arm.

“Is the arm bothering you?”

“No more than usual, if that’s what you mean. It’s just that sometimes the muscles around the joint and in my back stiffen, and they’re hard to get relaxed.”

“Would it help if I tried to massage them a bit? I can try if you want.”

There was the briefest hesitation, and Steve almost took the offer back, but then Bucky shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”

Steve went to the living room while Bucky popped in his bedroom, and he had to swallow when Bucky came back holding his shirt in hand, his torso bare. Steve nearly fumbled when Bucky tossed him a bottle of something.

“You can handle my skin care while you’re at it,” Bucky said with a grin, before seating himself in front of the couch.

Steve knew Bucky needed to regularly moisturize the scars around the shoulder to keep them supple, and focusing on the thought helped him gather his determination and seat himself behind Bucky. 

He started carefully, making sure he wasn’t hurting Bucky. He’d seen the scars before, but this was the first time touching them, and it made them even more real. Steve pushed the encroaching sadness away before it came to him in full force, because it wouldn’t help either of them, and he just wanted to make Bucky more comfortable, not dwell on the past. It helped, and soon enough he was working on the knots, methodically kneading them until Bucky was so relaxed he could barely stay upright. Steve would have thought he’d fallen asleep right there by the time he was finished, if Bucky hadn’t spoken.

“I’ve been thinking about the arm, and I’ve come to the conclusion I’ll need to start figuring out getting a new one. There’s no use postponing it too much, because I certainly won’t be comfortable without one any time soon, and it’s better to not wait and have more permanent damage in my shoulder as a result.”

Steve carefully smoothed his hand across Bucky’s shoulder, hoping it was a bit of comfort at least. “Okay. Have you decided how you want to proceed with it?”

“Not yet. Feels like that was big enough a thing for now.”

“It’s okay if it takes you some time,” Steve said, echoing Bucky from earlier. “I’ll be there, whatever you need.”

“I know. It scares me sometimes, but by now I know there’s no avoiding it. You’re you.”

It perhaps wasn’t wholly meant as a compliment, but Steve still smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the painting they discussed.](https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/2094)
> 
> I'd thought I might switch to posting twice a week after this chapter, but it was a non-productive writing week due to RL stuff, so I'll stick to posting on weekends for now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not all smooth sailing.

“How are you adjusting to the change?” Sam asked, and Steve blinked at him, completely confused by what he meant. They were having lunch away from the Tower, at a little diner that made great burgers. Sam gave him an unimpressed look over his fries. “Don’t try the innocent act, it’s not cute. I meant with Barnes, and how you keep traipsing around with him all the time now when just a little while ago he would barely give you the time of day.”

“Oh, that.” Steve gathered his thoughts, considering how to explain it so that Sam would understand. “I wasn’t trying to avoid talking about it. I suppose this is going to sound unlikely, but it doesn’t really feel as much of a change to me as it really is. If I really think of the contrast to last fall, for example, it does send me reeling, but the way we are now feels right to me, so familiar that I can’t really think of it as a change.”

Sam regarded him for a second. “I guess that makes sense. And I guess it answers my question, you’re doing fine.”

“You’re right, though, it is a change. And I’m so glad that we are reconnecting, but I guess I’m also still a bit uncertain about the whole of it. I don’t yet fully know why his behavior has changed so abruptly. I don’t want to say it’s a change of heart, because from what I’ve seen, I’ve started to think it probably wasn’t that.”

“Yeah, I’d thought it would be more complicated. We never talked much about you, but I always felt like it wasn’t simply that he wanted to distance himself from everything old. He wouldn’t be the first vet having difficulty spending time with loved ones, no matter how much they might want to on some level.”

“Do you think it’s right, not asking him about it? I don’t want to push him too much,” Steve asked.

“Probably for now,” Sam said slowly, thinking. “You said the two of you are doing fine although still adjusting, and for talks like that it’s better if you’re completely comfortable with each other. Otherwise it might feel like accusing each other of something even when it’s not the intention. But at some point the truth needs to come out, so that the uncertainty and not knowing won’t become a thing between the two of you.”

“That’s what I thought, too. I’m glad I’m on the right track. I have been feeling better since we started spending time together, which probably isn’t unsurprising. Last fall I felt like there was this cloud gathering over me, but it’s dissipating now.” It felt like a confession almost, to finally admit it aloud to Sam, and his friends smiled.

“That’s good, but I’m going to say this; make sure it’s not all about him. You can’t use another person as a crutch, and it goes triple with someone who has their own issues. You can support each other, it’s good that you do, but you can’t become too dependent on it.” There was a warning in Sam’s voice, care, and Steve was fairly sure it was directed at both of them. He was glad his friends were starting to get along, despite the somewhat rocky start.

“I know. It’s related, it can’t not be, but I’m trying to do the real work. I’ve been thinking of taking art classes, but I don’t know If I can make it happen with how unpredictable my schedule is. I’ll figure out something, though.”

“That’s definitely good.”

“How about you, how’s the neighborhood?” Steve asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from himself again. “Are the kids still all excited about you commuting on wings?”

Sam seemed to light up. “They are. They have a million questions every day too, and I try to answer at least some. So many of them are told every day they aren’t worth a damn, so it helps them to see me, because I did grow up like they did. They believe I’m for real cause they know my mom still lives there.”

“That’s good. Is your mom still doing okay? Got over the cold she had over the holidays?”

“She did, scared it away more like. She’s mother-henning all my nieces and nephews now, because they all seem to have gotten the winter cold from school.”

They chatted a bit more about Sam’s family that Steve by now knew fairly well, having been invited to spend several holidays with them. It was the kind of family life he’d never had for his own; loud, with many siblings and cousins around, several generations gathering together on all important days. He’d had some inkling of it from Bucky’s family, but not to the degree he did with the Wilsons, because most of the Barneses had stayed in Indiana when Bucky’s family had come to New York. He always enjoyed being immersed in the whirlwind it often was, even though it tended to be overwhelming in larger doses.

Steve did focus on the conversation, but his mind was working underneath, considering. Sam pointing out how big a change his and Bucky’s reconnecting had been had reminded him of his ongoing process of assessing other changes he could make regarding his life. He’d known for a while he’d need to reorganize things, that the way he’d been going so far couldn’t last forever, and now that he was finding more personal interests again, he needed to make space for them. He didn’t want to fully give up his work as an Avenger, but he could reorganize it and make sure he had more time for himself.

He’d been worrying over being Captain America, because the shield had been feeling heavier than it should for a while now, but he also felt that he couldn’t just retire, Captain America was still needed. Now, listening to Sam’s enthusiasm for his community and conviction of wanting to make things better, a new solution was raising its head as a possibility. He wasn’t going to present it to Sam yet, he’d need to think on it for some more, but he could at least open up a bit.

When the conversation came to a halt, he said, “I’ve been thinking of making some changes to my role as an Avenger.”

“What kind of changes?”

“I mentioned my unpredictable schedule earlier, and I’d like to have it less so. More time for myself. I haven’t yet decided how exactly I’ll want to go about it, but I’m thinking about it.”

“Getting out finally?” Sam asked, referring to the conversation they’d had on that first day at the VA.

“Not fully, I don’t think so at least. Like I said, I’m looking to make changes, and I’m ready to give up some of my duties to others. There are people that are plenty capable enough.”

“That makes sense, and it should be good for you, if you manage it.”

“Do you doubt it?”

“Well, over the years I’ve known you, the one thing you’ve never really succeeded in is to work less.” Sam grinned at him a bit apologetically, but Steve appreciated the frankness.

“True, but I’m hoping it’ll be different now. I’ve recently found myself seriously wishing I had more time for my art, because there are so many things I want to do, and that never really happened before. I worked so much because I didn’t have other things that were as important, relatively, but now I do. Guess I’m getting more selfish.”

“The horror,” Sam said in mock outrage, but grinned at him. “Pretty sure there’s space for you to be a bit more selfish, the world won’t end.”

“I know. Like I said, I know some capable people who’ll make sure.”

They talked of lighter things for the rest of their lunch, but Steve was glad to have shared the seed of his idea with Sam. It would need some polishing, but he was confident he was on the right track.

* * *

They’d planned another get-together with Bucky, this time not intending to go anywhere special but spend the afternoon at Steve’s. He’d cleared his neighbors’ yards again, because the snow just kept coming. The piles by the driveways and paths up to the porches were getting high by now, but he liked the look of it, it felt more familiar than the meticulously cleaned streets of Manhattan, even though they’d never been able to afford living in a house back in the day.

While working, he’d accidentally mentioned to Mrs Lombardi that Bucky was coming over again, and while she hadn’t said much about it to him, beyond smiling and telling him it was good to have friends, she was now standing outside across the street, chatting with Mrs Rosenberg on her porch from where they had a perfect view to Steve’s. He kind of wanted to tell them to go inside from the cold, but he didn’t actually want the hassle that it would cause and so he resigned himself to getting gawked at while Bucky arrived.

In truth, he didn’t really mind the curiosity, because it wasn’t the kind he usually got on the streets. It had nothing to do with him being Captain America, nothing to do with being a celebrity of sorts. It was just that they were his neighbors who cared about him as a person, and he could take some meddling that went with it. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have been as close with Natasha and Sam as he was, habitual meddlers of the first order the both of them, exponentially worse in tandem. He loved them, even when they sometimes annoyed him.

He knew he’d most likely have to dodge some questions the following day at the very least when he’d undoubtedly be shoveling snow again, because the forecast said more would come during the night, by the time Bucky rang his doorbell. Behind him Steve saw the old ladies looking, not discreet at all about it, and he gave Bucky an apologetic smile when letting him in. The large wrapped parcel Bucky was carrying distracted him from further apologies.

“Is this a plant?” He asked when Bucky had handed it to him and was taking off his coat and boots. He was wearing knitted socks that had a pattern in blue and warm orange in them.

“I noticed you don’t have any, and since it wasn’t too cold today I figured it wouldn’t die if wrapped properly.

“Thank you,” Steve said, not quite knowing what to think of it, because the gesture was unusual.

In the kitchen, he removed the several layers of newspaper and revealed an orchid with delicate while blooms planted in a glass vase. Receiving it felt romantic, the word inescapable for all that Steve was reluctant to use it, because he still wasn’t sure it was where they were going and didn’t want to draw wrong conclusions. He focused on the plant instead of dwelling on his thoughts. It was beautiful, the gracefulness of the stem was pleasing to his eye, and he already knew he would be drawing and painting it often.

“You should put it on the table by the window here, the amount of light should be suitable for it,” Bucky said.

“I hope I won’t end up killing it,” Steve said. “I’ve heard orchids can be tricky.”

“Probably some of them are,” Bucky said. “This one, not so much. Just keep it out of draft and water it when the roots are grey rather than green as they’re now, and when the blooms fall off you can take it somewhere a bit cooler, and it should make new ones.”

“That sounds doable,” Steve said, deciding to do his best, wanting to cling to this reminder of Bucky giving him something to make his home a bit more like one. “Help me set the table?”

Bucky was by now familiar with Steve’s kitchen and took out plates and utensils while Steve removed the lasagna from the oven. It needed to sit for a bit to settle, but they’d start with the salad he’d also made. It was the kind of a hearty meal he enjoyed especially in winter, and the company made it even better.

They lounged after the meal for a bit, talking mostly about their friends. Steve always liked to hear Bucky’s insight on the Avengers he spent time with, because their relationships had a fundamentally different starting point, and so their behavior toward him was different as well, and it gave Steve new appreciation for his friends. It was probably the same for Bucky when it came to the twins, they’d first known Bucky, and only then Steve, and while they were close to both of them, it wasn’t the same.

Bucky wasn’t particularly close to any of the other Avengers beyond the twins and Natasha, although through her he’d gotten to know Clint and Sam a bit more than the rest of them and as far as Steve knew, sometimes spent time with them. Steve had always been relieved that during the time Bucky had stayed distant to him, he’d been able to allow Natasha in, because she’d been someone Steve could trust. He’d also been horribly jealous of it on occasion, something Natasha had undoubtedly known about and had managed with more grace than he’d deserved and only minimal amount of needling. At least now that Bucky did spend time with him, he was relieved to find out the lingering jealousy was dissipating, with no sense that he’d missed something remaining, and with only the gratitude left.

“It looks a bit clearer,” Bucky said, peering out of the window. “Want to take a walk before it snows again?”

“Sure, let’s go.”

They headed for the park, bundled warmly against the cold. Steve liked winter for the additional clothes, because with the big scarf and hat people didn’t recognize him as easily as they usually did, and while he was mostly left in peace in New York, he still enjoyed the fact that now it wasn’t even a choice the people made, he was just as anonymous as anyone.

They passed a group of young people, college age by Steve’s estimation, and he smiled when he saw that all of them had patches and badges with rainbows on them fastened on their bags and coats. He was once more grateful that even though things were far from perfect, these youngsters could declare their identity so freely. It was such a step up from when he’d grown up, when people might beat you up for it, even for a suspicion, and you couldn’t disclose the reason to anyone, because the public stance was you’d deserved it. Of course, it had never been an universal attitude, a lot of people had privately felt differently, but the change was so drastic that it still overwhelmed him when he really thought about it.

He glanced at Bucky, meaning to say something along those lines, but faltered when he saw that Bucky was frowning and looking at the group. He knew for a fact Bucky was glad of the change, he’d recently mentioned it when talking of a book he’d read that had featured a gay couple, but clearly there was something bothering him. When Bucky noticed Steve had paused he gave him a tight smile and they continued walking, Steve wondering if he should ask.

After a while, Bucky let out a breath and squared his shoulders, as if needing to defend something. It was a very familiar posture to Steve, but he had no idea at all what Bucky was about to say, nor any way to prepare for what actually came out.

“I used to go with men sometimes, before the war. In addition to women.”

They were now in the park, and thankfully no one was nearby, which probably was why Bucky had decided to speak right then. Hence there was no one to hear when Steve stopped on his tracks and said too loudly, “What?”

It was completely unexpected, and it felt like something familiar had been turned inside out to reveal it was actually something very foreign.

“I didn’t know that,” Steve finally managed, when he realized Bucky was waiting for him to say something more. His shoulders were tense and he looked regretful, but determined too.

“I know. I remember I kept it very tightly hidden, but I want to be more open with you, even though it’s still difficult with all that’s happened. And all things considered, this isn’t anywhere close to the worst thing you know of me.”

“It’s not a bad thing at all,” Steve said almost automatically, because it really wasn’t, it didn’t actually change anything that it hadn’t been just girls Bucky had gone with. What was harder for him was that Bucky had felt like he’d needed to hide it from him, that did sting, and it left him confused in ways he knew he’d have to try and sort out with time. “I just don’t understand why you never told me. I know you knew I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I think that was precisely why,” Bucky said shrugging, as if it was supposed to make any sense.

“I really don’t see how that’s a reason, Buck,” Steve said, lowering the volume of his voice mid-sentence when he realized he was really being too loud, because the last thing he wanted right now was to attract attention.

“It was, I think the reasoning for me was that if you’d known that, you’d have been closer to knowing how I really felt. I didn’t want to put that on you, because I didn’t know what I wanted to do about it either.”

Bucky’s answer still didn’t make everything clear, it felt like a half-confession in the same way that Steve himself had talked about the two of them that night at Bucky’s after they’d been at the lecture, and while he wanted to ask for a clarification, he got a clear impression Bucky wasn’t ready at all to give him one. He didn’t ask, because it was only fair, considering Bucky hadn’t asked him to explain any of the half-truths either. It still didn’t make it okay, it still left him feeling hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “Maybe I’m not handling this the best way possible, and there probably wasn’t a good way for that to come out, considering where I left it before the war. But I want you to know now.”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why it hit me so hard, there’s nothing wrong with it, or you. Never was. I don’t know why I’m this confused about how to feel,” Steve admitted. “It’s not about who you went with, just about all the rest of it. I don’t know what I should say here.”

“It’s okay. I think I get it, at least some of where you’re coming from. Do you need time to sort it out for yourself?”

Steve needed only a moment to consider, because it was fairly clear they wouldn’t really get anywhere further continuing this back and forth. “Yeah, that would probably be the best. Look, I’ll get back to you soon, I don’t want to leave this hanging. And I’m glad you told me, despite this all.”

Bucky gave him a small smile. “I hope that’s how you’ll feel tomorrow also. See you, Steve.” Bucky’s hand twitched toward him, but he closed his fist and pulled it to his side.

Steve was very conscious then that they hadn’t even hugged yet since reconnecting. They’d sat next to each other, had bumped against each other when walking, but they hadn’t hugged, and while he wanted to do so just then, he also thought it probably wasn't a good idea. Instead, he reached out and grasped Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m sure I’ll always be glad to know everything about you that you want to share. I think this is a me-problem, and I’m sorry dealing with it leaves you hanging.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Bucky said, sure of his stance. “Considering how much you’ve handled from me over the last couple of years, it would be really hypocritical of me to resent you for needing space.”

Steve nodded. “We’ll be okay, I know we will. Talk to you soon.”

They parted then, and Steve walked slowly toward his house. He was glad to see there was no one outside, because he really wasn’t ready to handle questions and explanations, because he would have had to pretend to be fine and he wasn’t up to it now.

Inside, he went to get a glass of water, and his gaze landed on the orchid Bucky had brought. He wondered again about the gesture, about what it meant and was it connected to what Bucky had used to feel for him before the war.

He dithered about for a moment, realizing he was just doing busywork, and finally went to the living room and picked up his sketchbook and a pencil. Maybe he’d be able to sort his thoughts out better if he did something with his hands at the same time.

* * *

Steve didn’t get to sort out his thoughts that day, because he’d barely managed to sit down when he got called in for a mission. At least it wasn’t so urgent that he needed to be picked up with a quinjet, that was always a bad sign, because it meant they were more than likely to arrive too late to prevent the crisis and were on the back foot. It was always a blessing to be able to plan ahead.

He texted Bucky on the way, knowing he might not have a chance later, and if whatever they needed to handle got prolonged it would weigh on Bucky to not have heard from him. Especially considering how they’d left things, Steve didn’t want to give him yet another reason to worry.

At the Tower he checked in, and found out they might need to move against AIM, which was always less than pleasant seeing as they tended to go full mad scientist all too often. Steve hated the aftermath of those missions, the visions of suffering crowding into his dreams for weeks afterward. He was alone in the locker room when he started to change into his uniform, those living nearby were already done, but Natasha and Sam arrived soon after him. She sidled next to him, pitching her voice low enough that no one but the three of them would hear.

“James asked me to keep an eye on you, saying you might be distracted. Should we worry?”

It was a reasonable question, and while Steve was a bit annoyed at Bucky for talking to her, he had to admit it was sensible. “Something came up that put some of our past into a new light, and I haven’t really had time to process it. But it shouldn’t affect me with this, it’s not like I expect it to permanently change anything about us.”

She gave him one of her penetrating looks while attaching her weapons, and finally nodded, apparently seeing enough to agree with him. “Let us know, though, if it does start to bother you.”

“I will. Probably good it’s not Hydra this time, at least,” Steve said, because it would have been different having to go against them when they were inescapably tangled with what had happened to Bucky in his mind. Since it was AIM, it was easier to just push his personal feelings, in this case everything to do with Bucky, to the back of his head and focus on the facts of the mission. He slung his shield to his back. “Let’s go let them know whatever they’ve got going on is a bad idea.”

Sam squeezed his shoulder when they headed toward the command center, and Steve felt fortified again with his friends at his side.

* * *

It took over a week to sort things out and make sure things were again as peaceful as they ever got, and Steve managed to focus well enough, better than he’d expected considering where they’d left off with Bucky. He came home in the early afternoon, and was so tired that he only took a shower before collapsing into his bed. He was glad he’d eaten already at the Tower, because there wasn’t much that was edible in his fridge.

He hadn’t had a chance to focus on their discussion with Bucky, but clearly his subconsciousness had been working away, because when he woke up, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. What he needed to say. He was up in seconds, washed his face and brushed his teeth before dressing up warmly, and he didn’t really think before he was out in the cold morning. There were commuters out and about, it being a Tuesday, but Steve wasn’t expected at work. They all had several days off after missions like this, provided a new crisis didn’t come up, because it was important they recovered, both physically and mentally.

He didn’t have to ring the bell outside, because when he arrived at Bucky’s building one of his neighbors was leaving, and he recognized Steve well enough to let him in. Only when he was at Bucky’s door, did Steve realize he should have called ahead, because in all likelihood it wasn’t a good time. He didn’t back away, though, since he was already there he might as well try and see whether Bucky was up. He knocked on the door, remembering Bucky’s doorbell was loud and he didn’t want to wake him if he was asleep.

Bucky opened the door fully dressed, meaning he must have been up already, and a smell of coffee drifted out around him, making Steve realize he hadn’t even eaten yet and demonstrating a complete failure of planning on his part.

“Hi,” he said when Bucky just gaped at him, clearly surprised to see him. It was probably best to just come clean from the start. “Sorry it’s early, I woke up knowing what I wanted to say, and just came. I should have given it a bit of thought and called you ahead, but. Well, here I am.”

“Here you are. And I’m guessing you didn’t even have breakfast,” Bucky said, flashing a smile and inviting him inside.

“Unfortunately not.”

“You’re in luck, then, because I was just starting to make some for myself, easy enough to make more eggs.”

When Steve came to the kitchen after putting his coat away, Bucky had already poured out a mug of coffee for him, and was pulling eggs, bacon, and vegetables from the fridge. He paused when Steve took his mug.

“Do you want to talk now, or eat first?”

Steve took a second to consider it. When he’d woken up he’d been almost frantic with the need to see Bucky and to tell him what he’d figured out, but now that he was there he was calmer, and thought a few moments of waiting might even help. “Let’s eat first. Can I help you with something?”

Bucky took him for his word, which Steve appreciated, always had. Before the war Bucky had always respected his word, even when sometimes it had meant Steve had pushed himself too hard. It had been important to him mentally, though, to be respected at least that much, and Bucky had always seemed to understand it. Steve filed the thought away, deciding he should make sure to repay the favor, because in his recovery Bucky didn’t really appreciate hovering.

Bucky had him fry the bacon and mix the eggs while he prepped the vegetables and grated some cheese, and fairly soon they sat down to a meal of omelets filled with vegetables and cheese, with a side of bacon and toast, and orange juice poured in tall glasses. Steve talked a bit about the mission while they ate, nothing classified, but letting Bucky know how everyone had fared. The only serious injury they’d suffered had been Clint’s broken ribs, which wasn’t all that usual for him, and Bucky visibly relaxed with the news.

After the meal they made new mugs of coffee and took them to the living room, where Bucky now had Steve’s painting on the wall. Steve was always happy to see it, that there was something that he’d made so prominently displayed at Bucky’s home. They sat at the opposite corners of the couch which put a bit more distance between them than usual, but it didn’t feel like it was out of fear or worry, just to help them focus. Steve warmed his hands on the coffee mug, and gathered his thoughts. Bucky seemed content to wait for him to find the right words.

“I realize not all of what I felt was exactly reasonable, and I’m mostly sure I’m over it by now, I just wanted you to know,” Steve started, and was relieved to see Bucky’s understanding smile.

“I know a few things about feelings going haywire.”

“I’m going to try to be blunt about this, and if you feel like I’m beating around the bushes, tell me so, okay?” Bucky nodded and motioned him to continue, so Steve did. “What I felt when you told me about going with men back in the day was confusion, because I hadn’t known it, and also, even though I realized it only afterward, I was angry too. Specifically because you’d hidden it from me, and that you’d succeeded in it. I know I shouldn’t have been, I know you were entitled to keep it to yourself if you needed to.”

“I think it’s understandable to be angry,” Bucky said when Steve paused. “As far as I remember, you didn’t hide things from me, so I was a poor friend to not repay in kind.”

“Well.” Steve reached out and patted Bucky’s knee that rested on the couch. “What you were hiding was kind of more serious than anything I might have wanted to.” He thought for a moment. “At least until I tried to illegally enlist.”

“And you told me of that too,” Bucky pointed out. “I’m glad you’re not angry anymore, at least it seems so?”

“I’m not. I was until I figured out why this morning, and it disappeared with me understanding it. See, back before the war, there were things about me and my life I would have wanted to hide from you, the poverty and illness and what they did to me. I didn’t want you to see all of that, because it was ugly sometimes, the kind of hardship that puts people down. I tried to keep those parts of me hidden, but they usually spilled out when I was angry, or when you were kinder than I could bear. Sometimes both at the same time.”

“I remember,” Bucky slowly said, seeming to gather his thoughts, “how what you said sometimes shook me. And realizing that even though it wasn’t always easy for my family, it was still different for you and your mother. Things like how far you sometimes needed to stretch food, for example. Took me a while to learn, if I remember correctly.”

“Nothing you did wrong,” Steve said. “We just had different lives, and it’s not always easy to see how deep the difference is. Anyway, everything always came up, and I ended up not being able to hide anything from you, except maybe what I was hiding even from myself. And I always thought it was the same with you, that I knew everything there was to know, everything that mattered and was going on in your life. And now that I learned of such a significant new thing it threw me, that there had been a hidden depth I’d had no idea existed. I felt unbalanced, as if I’d been cheated on some exchange. But I haven’t. I know that, it’s not how friendships really work, and when I realized that was what I felt, I wasn’t angry anymore. It’s okay not to tell me everything, your life is your life and you don’t owe me anything, no matter how good friends we are.”

Bucky shifted on the couch, coming closer to him. “I know, and thank you for telling me. But I want to, though. I want to open up more, because I’ve been closing myself off and I don’t like it. There are still things that are hard for me to talk about, but I want to try, and somehow now the thing I most wanted to hide in my previous life felt one of the easiest to let you know.”

“I’m glad to know, and I’ll always listen to you, whatever you want to talk about. And I’m sorry it took me a while to figure out why I was so confused, I wish I’d known immediately so you hadn’t had to worry about my reaction.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Bucky leaned back, looking up to the ceiling before meeting Steve’s eyes again. “I was scared, for a long time, that we wouldn’t be able to connect, that it would go wrong somehow, because I’d changed so much. I was afraid of fully showing you what I’d become. Still am, and it’ll take time for me to work through it. It was the biggest reason why I put distance between us.”

“Because you didn’t want to risk it going really wrong?” Steve asked, adding the information to what he already knew of Bucky.

“Yeah. And when I showed up at your house, I still thought it might go wrong. Sometimes I do even now, on bad days. But I wasn’t any better staying away, and in comparison, I’m much happier now.”

Steve answered Bucky’s smile. “I’m too. And I think I get what you’re saying, so just take your time. I’ll also need to sort out things for myself, but I think we’re both on the right track.”

“I do too. So, we’re okay?”

“We’re definitely okay, if you think so,” Steve confirmed, moving toward the middle of the couch to sit next to Bucky. “Did you have plans today?”

“Nothing much. Want to watch a movie or something? Looks like the weather isn’t going to improve.”

Steve agreed, so they pulled out Bucky’s Netflix queue and got snacks. When everything was ready, before starting the movie, Bucky turned toward him again.

“You said there were things you were hiding even from yourself. Are you finding them now?”

“I think I’m learning to look at them, bit by bit. I’ll tell you when I get there.”

Bucky nodded, seemingly satisfied, and pressed play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past halfway now, thanks for reading and all the lovely notes!
> 
> Next chapter will be posted a week from now, and then the last two during the following week, so that this'll be finished in a couple of weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some newfound closeness.

“You made it to the gossip sites again,” Bucky greeted him when Steve answered the phone.

“Oh no.” It came out comically loud, but Steve didn’t mind so much when Bucky laughed at the other end. He was alone in the locker room anyway, the muck from the mission showered off and civilian clothes mostly on. When the phone had rang, he’d realized he was more tired than he’d thought, considering he’d been sitting there for a while, staring into nothing. He should just pick himself up and go home.

“Did you fall asleep there?” Bucky asked, and Steve also realized he’d spaced out again.

“No, but I’m not that far away from that point, to be honest. I’ll probably just take a cab home rather than the train, I think I’d be more than likely to sleep past my stop. Anyway, why did I make it to the gossip sites and why do you know about it?”

“Please, I think we’ve established my level of paranoia and need to be informed at all times already,” Bucky said, which was fair. “And it was the cat, obviously. They’re all cooing at how adorable it was and what a good person you are.”

Steve should have probably known someone would snap a photo of him climbing up to rescue a spooked adolescent cat from a tree at the end of their most recent mission. It had been in the middle of a suburb, with a lot of people out watching once it had been clear everything was safe, and hence plenty of phones around.

“Could be worse, I guess. Although I hate it when they make me sound like some sort of two dimensional saint.”

“I know. Your friends see the real you, though.”

They’d talked a bit of how Steve had had a hard time adjusting to the new time when it had felt everyone only saw Captain America and what they wanted to see, not the real him, and how it still was hard sometimes to remember not everyone was like that. It was easier now with Bucky talking to him again, remembering, because he’d never had the difficulty telling the difference, not even when his memory had been full of holes. The reminders helped too.

“I’ve been thinking, having a cat might be nice,” Bucky said, clearly sensing a change of topic would be a good idea.

Steve propped the phone against his shoulder and started pulling his socks on, deciding it was high time he got home. “Have you looked into getting one?”

“Can’t, my lease doesn’t allow pets here.”

_ No restrictions like that at my house, _ Steve rather wanted to say, but didn’t. He still would have liked nothing better than have Bucky living with him, but he knew better than to push. The possibility wasn’t yet on the table, maybe not for a long time, but Steve had started to think that maybe they’d get there at least, some day. “That’s a shame. But maybe you’ll find a solution sooner or later.”

“That’s not why I called, though. Are you too tired, or do you want to come here for dinner? That way you wouldn’t have to figure it out yourself.”

“I’d love to. I mean, I’m liable to fall asleep on my food, but I know there’s nothing in my fridge and I’ll definitely need to eat.”

They hung up a moment later when Steve stepped into the elevator. At the front door he looked for a cab, there usually were a few in front of the Tower, but instead Happy was there, waving at him. Steve gratefully accepted the ride, remembering to ask to be dropped off at Bucky’s. They had a nice quiet evening, Bucky had made a huge pan of spaghetti bolognese, and after the meal they watched some television. They’d recently started the Good Place, and the length of the episodes was just right for Steve’s level of alertness. He ended up not going home that day, falling asleep on Bucky’s couch instead, and in the morning they went out to have a breakfast of bagels and coffee.

* * *

There’d been a lot of snow that winter, and while before the holidays Steve had considered it mostly an inconvenience, after the holidays he’d started to find the charm in it. Not that he liked the occasional difficulties and delays it caused, but now he saw the beauty of it, as well as all the fun it provided. It was all due to his improved mood, and a big part of that in turn was due to growing closer with Bucky again. There was more to it than their improved relationship, and Steve did his best to not rely on Bucky too much, but truth was, it would have been a lie to say it didn’t help to have his best friend back. It did, and he allowed it to help, but made sure the foundation of his well-being wasn’t resting on their relationship. Instead, it got built up along with everything else he was recovering and discovering.

They were once more comfortable with Bucky, the air cleared after the small stumble of needing to once more reorient their relationship. In fact, it surprised Steve a bit that it actually felt easier than before, as if some barrier he hadn’t even noticed had dissolved. He had an impression they were moving toward something more deliberately now even though they hadn’t discussed it, the goal still somewhat intangible to Steve but it was there beyond the horizon. He didn’t want to hurry, didn’t want to rush and misstep especially now that he could enjoy the ease between them, and Bucky appeared to be just as content to let things move at their own pace.

They’d started to expand their circles as well. They still spent most of the time they were together alone without their other friends around, at home or going out. They’d been to more museums and some book readings as well, sometimes getting recognized but usually left alone. Sometimes they got papped, but it didn’t really make headlines, because apparently the gossip sites had decided  _ Friendship still going strong after nine decades _ didn’t generate enough revenue.

Sam and Natasha had decided to invite a larger group to one of their no-work-talk-allowed dinners, and while some of the Avengers couldn’t make it, Bucky did agree to come. In the end there were eight of them; Scott and Hope who were visiting from the west coast, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Steve, and Bucky. It was the first time Steve had an opportunity to see Bucky spend time casually with the others besides the twins, and while Bucky wasn’t completely comfortable with all of them, Steve was glad to see he genuinely enjoyed being out with their friends.

He was also glad that the feeling was now uncomplicated, not like it had been when things had been tense between the two of them. Then he’d been glad that Bucky had people he trusted, but he’d also been jealous, feeling inadequate to the degree that he couldn’t have honestly said he was glad everyday. He’d been ashamed of it, but it had been the truth, and he was glad to be rid of it.

That night, his heart was light and it was easy to laugh at the jokes, everything made better with Bucky sitting next to him.

* * *

Steve woke up to the wind howling in the corners of his house, and through the crack in the curtains he could see nothing but snow blowing in the air. The snowstorm had come as forecast, and the Avengers had agreed in advance to stay at home unless there was an emergency. Steve burrowed deep into his bed, it was early, and he could probably get a couple of more hours of sleep if he tried.

He’d only managed to close his eyes when his phone rang. Thankfully, it wasn’t the Avengers’ emergency tone, but then again, it had to be something unusual, because normally Bucky wouldn’t have called him this early.

Bucky’s greeting, “Hi, Steve,” was subdued, and at first he didn’t say anything else even after Steve had responded.

“Did you need something from me?” Steve finally asked.

There was a long silence during which Steve could only listen to Bucky breathing, knowing something was definitely not right, but finally Bucky spoke. “It’s just a bad day.”

Steve privately thought there was nothing just about it, considering he hadn’t heard Bucky this listless in a long time, and while he’d known there must have been bad days even after Bucky had put the barrier between the two of them, it was a whole another thing to witness one.

“Would you like me to come over?” Steve asked, trying to hide how worried he actually was.

“It’s snowing,” Bucky said. It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes either, even though Steve suspected Bucky might have wanted company but didn’t want to bother him.

“It’s just a mile there and I’ve been through worse. Unless you tell me you don’t want me there, I’m coming.”

Steve waited for a moment, again just listening to the breathing at the other end, but he finally figured the way he was right now, Bucky probably couldn’t admit needing him. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

Steve dressed up quickly, and had a protein shake and an apple to stop immediate hunger. He knew Bucky had stocked up in preparation for the storm, and they’d be able to cook there once he’d made sure Bucky wasn’t getting worse. The snow and wind outside were a nuisance, but not really an obstruction to him. He had proper boots and warm clothes, and so wading down the sidewalk was tedious rather than dangerous. He thought that if the wind let up a bit, maybe he could later persuade Bucky to come back with him, because he did want to check on some of his neighbors. It had to wait, though, because right now Bucky’s well-being was his first priority.

He walked instead of running even though he kind of wanted to. The streets were deserted because of the early hour and the snow, and it was so quiet that it was almost eerie, as if the whole city had been abandoned to winter.

When he arrived, Bucky buzzed him up immediately, and opened the door for him before he had to knock. Steve did the best to shake off most of the snow in the hallway so that he didn’t track it into Bucky’s apartment, and shrugged off his coat while Bucky locked the door behind him.

Once he was comfortable, Steve took a closer look at Bucky who obviously wasn’t at his best even though the large knitted sweater and fluffy socks he was wearing gave him a soft appearance. His shoulders were hunched and expression pinched, almost pleading when he looked at Steve.

Steve was moving before he could think about it, stepping in and pulling Bucky into his arms. Only when it was done he realized it might not have been a good idea, considering Bucky’s history of touch-aversion, but the worries were whisked away when Bucky almost immediately melted into him. Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Bucky, foolishly wishing he could have as easily shielded him from all the troubles, and Bucky held tight in return and tucked his face against Steve’s neck.

They stood there for a long while, and Steve just steadied his breathing while Bucky trembled, waited until the tremors were gone, and Bucky was as relaxed and calm as he could get right then. He could have kept standing there for much longer, but they were still by the door, and he also wanted Bucky to be as comfortable as he could, so he started thinking of suggesting moving to the couch. Bucky moved first, though, pulling away, and Steve let him even though he had to squash a bit of disappointment at the loss of contact.

“I made tea,” Bucky said, and started toward the kitchen. Steve followed, he actually had to because Bucky still had his fingers wrapped around the hem of his shirt, and he was only too happy to go along with it.

They ended up on the couch with mugs of tea, side by side under a blanket. It was obvious to Steve now that he was there that Bucky craved contact but wasn’t able to ask for it, and he resolved to try to give him a bit more, even when it wasn’t a difficult day like this one.

When Bucky had drank half of his tea, he said, “I’ve often wanted to ask you to come on days like this.” He probably knew what Steve wanted to say, because he continued, “I know you would have come, I never doubted that. I just wasn’t ready, I was too worried about everything. Days like these suck, but this is better than usual.”

“I’m glad I can help,” Steve said. He shifted, putting his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulling him close. Bucky came easily, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“You help a lot of the time,” Bucky said. He chuckled a bit, even sounding lighter now. “Remember how we used to sit like this before the war, except the other way around, when your fever was going up and you were cold. I was always glad to help with what little I could.”

“You helped a lot, back then. I’m sorry that I never told you how much. You still help me.”

Steve wondered if Bucky had felt then like he did now, a mix of being glad of being useful, but there was more to it too, happiness of having been given this chance of closeness, and regret of being happy when Bucky was having a hard time. He was almost ashamed when he thought of it like that, but it helped to have the other perspective. He got something from this, and so did Bucky, even if they didn’t articulate all the ways it benefited them out loud. He’d always been glad for more than just warmth when Bucky had held him close, had been glad of companionship, glad that they were so close they could help each other when it was needed without it feeling like it was too much. Thinking of it like that, the shame fell away.

Steve could admit to himself now, after days and weeks of allowing himself to consider the state of things between the two of them, that he’d craved closeness with Bucky for a long time now. Before, he’d always tried to suppress the want, but now that they were both free and stable in their lives, when it didn’t carry such risks as it used to, Steve was comfortable with slowly pushing forward, wanting to see where they would end up with it. Their relationship had fallen into a stable place before the war, and then during it, but now in this new time they were still finding their footing with each other. They were already comfortable together, which was a great start, but the shape of it was still shifting. Steve was acutely aware of it, and thought Bucky must have been too.

Eventually Bucky settled enough that they could make breakfast together, big portions of hearty dishes, scrambled eggs with bacon and fried vegetables. Couple of hours later they made a lunch of lentil soup and beef sandwiches, and once they’d eaten Bucky wasn’t so pale and clammy anymore, but he was still jittery.

“I need to spend this energy somehow,” he admitted.

“Want to go and shovel all the sidewalks in my neighborhood?” Steve offered. “There’ll be more snow later, but no harm in getting started now. The wind doesn’t seem so bad either, anymore.”

Bucky had eyed the outside speculatively, otherwise Steve might have offered to go to a gym with him instead. He knew Bucky didn’t always take well to the cold, but he was also aware he’d worked on it, and was doing much better these days. Perhaps some activity that was beneficial to others would give him yet another good association to rely on.

“That would probably work well enough.”

Soon they were back in Steve’s neighborhood, shoveling the sidewalks not just in front of Steve’s house but his neighbors’ as well. The snow was now falling more gently than it had in the morning, and the wind wasn’t quite as chilly, although according to the forecast it was supposed to pick up toward the night once more. It was still very quiet in the city. Some of the children had taken an advantage of the ceasing of the storm to come out to play, and many of Steve’s neighbors came out to greet them. Mrs Lombardi brought them some cookies once they’d shoveled a path up to her house, chatting a bit with them, more gentle with Bucky than she usually was with Steve. She could probably see Bucky wasn’t quite at ease, since she didn’t ask them to come inside like Steve could tell she considered doing.

They’d agreed that Bucky should stay the night at Steve’s, and once they’d showered and dressed in comfortably warm clothes, the wind was picking up again and the snow was coming down faster.

“Exercise always helps me on the down days,” Steve called out to Bucky from the kitchen where he was making them hot chocolate. “Especially if it’s something like this, useful to other people.”

“Helps me too,” Bucky said, popping his head into the kitchen. “Although I must add, one doesn’t always have to be useful. I think we’ve had this discussion before.”

“I know. Guess it’s still a work in progress for me,” Steve said.

“I think you’re doing better, though. I’ve seen the effort you make.”

Bucky disappeared again, leaving Steve staring after him, although he did manage to remember his task before the milk overheated. It was good to hear the acknowledgment of his struggles but also the encouragement, because it was hard sometimes to see whether he was making any progress at all. He still had down days, but he’d been thinking they weren’t coming as often, and hearing the change was visible was a boost.

When the hot chocolate was ready, Steve took the mugs to the living room and found Bucky standing by the bookshelf, looking at his collection that was much smaller than Bucky’s. Granted, Steve tended to read a lot of ebooks, so only part of his library was there in view. Bucky smiled his thanks and took a sip, visibly enjoying the rich taste. Steve averted his eyes to the books when Bucky licked his upper lip to catch the whipped cream clinging there, his cheeks suddenly heating up. He took a sip from his own mug, carefully not glancing at Bucky to see if he was looking at him.

“Can I ask something about your books?” Bucky asked after a moment.

“Sure, you can always ask.”

“You have a lot of the usual suspects there, history and biographies and art, not to mention Tolkien, but the romance novels are new.”

“You should see my Kindle,” Steve smiled, even though he knew it was probably a bit tight, because he was familiar with the attitudes people sometimes had regarding the genre, and right now he couldn’t be sure where Bucky fell with it. He was fairly sure it would be okay, but couldn’t completely banish the uncertainty.

“A lot more of them there, huh?”

“Yeah, you can read them fast and get bundles cheap fairly often, so ebooks are practical in that. Peggy had boxes and boxes of books like these from decades back.”

“She got you into them?”

“And recommended the good stuff to start with. There’s a lot of variation, a lot of very conservative stuff, but she helped me to find the good ones in the beginning before I knew what to look for.”

“I’m glad to hear that. For you, but also because in my memories she was always very serious and all business. It’s nice to get a glimpse of her other side.”

Steve felt wistful, the way he got when he thought of Peggy these days. “It was funny, in a way I got to know her anew when I woke up in 2012. I mean, I obviously knew the important parts of her, but we got to know each other when the war was on, and back then we all focused our energies on that. It was good to get to know her in peace time too.”

Bucky was quiet for a second, tracing his finger at the spine of one of the books. “Do you regret that you didn’t get to try a life with her?”

Steve noted Bucky was tense, just a bit, but he couldn’t analyze it then because he had to decide how to answer. It was a bit of a complicated matter, and he’d never managed to explain it quite as clearly as he wanted to. “I mean, back then I wanted to, and it was hard to wake up and find out she’d grown old in the meantime. But we were close for the years we had, and it helped to know she’d been happy. It’s a might-have-been that I think could have worked if things had turned out differently, but it’s life; some things you get and others you lose, and when one door closes others open. I don’t think I lost my one shot at happiness or anything like that with her.”

Bucky hummed, and he seemed more at ease again as he considered it. Then he laughed a little. “We got sidetracked, I almost forgot what I wanted to ask. See, I like reading scifi and fantasy for one because I like the new worlds and escaping for a bit, getting to go to new places if only in my imagination. So, what is the hook for you with romance? Because I feel like there probably is one.”

“There is, actually, and it’s something similar to yours. It’s why Peggy got me started with them, quite simply that I can trust in the happy ending. No matter how outlandish things get, in the end it will be fine, and with how much uncertainty there is in our lives, it gives me a reprieve. I can take a few hours and escape into the story that’ll deliver some endorphins in the end.”

“Sounds good. You should give me some recs.”

“I will. And you too, we can have a book exchange between the two of us,” Steve said.

When it was time to go to bed, Steve looked into one of the guest bedrooms, intending to make the bed there, but hesitated at the door. His learned frugality meant he kept the doors closed and heat on low in the unused rooms to save energy, but he also knew that even though Bucky had made himself deal with the cold, he much preferred being warm.

“It’ll be warmer in my bedroom,” he blurted out, without really thinking what exactly he was offering before Bucky looked at him, lifting an eyebrow.

“That better not mean you’re about to make yourself less comfortable on my behalf,” Bucky said, and his affect made it sound like a dare of all things.

Steve, of course, had never been one to back away, and so he said, embracing the recklessness, “There’s plenty of room in the bed.”

In the end, it wasn’t even awkward even though Steve had feared it might be while he’d been brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror. They’d shared a bed plenty of times during the winter, both before and during the war, and it was yet another homecoming, almost, when they curled up under the covers facing each other. The difference was that they had more room in the bed than ever before, and perhaps it was the detail that made it possible to share. Regardless, Steve was very content when he fell asleep.

In the morning he woke up when it was light enough to see that Bucky was already awake but still there, turned toward him. While he’d been sleeping, Steve had apparently reached out across the middle of the bed, his hand now resting next to Bucky’s, their pinkies just slightly touching. Steve very carefully didn’t move since Bucky hadn’t either even though he must have noticed.

It was still easy and comfortable, but Steve knew it might get weird soon if they stayed and just looked at each other, or if not weird, then something else might happen, and he didn’t feel quite ready for anything else. This was plenty enough.

“Want to eat a pile of pancakes and then go shovel some more snow?” he asked.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Steve blinked when the presentation came to an end, having been completely enthralled all through it. Next to him Bucky shifted, and he didn’t have to ask to know it had been the same for him. Princess Shuri certainly knew how to keep an audience in her grip, even when it hadn’t been exactly a show; everything she’d talked about sustainable solutions had been full of information, no fluff in between. It had been a surprise that the Princess herself had been the one to hold the presentation. Another scientist had been named in the program on the website of the Wakandan outreach center, but apparently she’d been needed elsewhere, and of all people the Princess had stepped up.

It all had been well worth the effort they’d taken to attend. Usually they chose events that were likely to be low stress, but Bucky had been very interested in learning more of Wakanda, enough that knowing they discreetly scanned everyone at the entrance to the center hadn’t deterred him. The safety measures were necessary; infuriatingly there had been pushback against the centers from those who had a hard time swallowing the fact that an African nation was the most advanced in the world. Bucky and Steve understood the need for them to be safe and had called in ahead to make sure their presence would be okay. It had also helped them to avoid drawing attention to themselves, as might have happened if Bucky had just shown up with a metal arm. They’d been graciously told their presence was not a problem, and had walked in just like everyone else.

When they got up to leave, both their phones buzzed at exactly the same time, even though Steve was sure they’d put them on a do not disturb mode. More remarkably, it turned out it was the same message to both of them; the princess asking if they could stop by to talk with her for a moment. There was no reason not to agree, and they were both curious, so they allowed themselves to be escorted to the back rooms that weren’t open to the public.

The princess was perched on a couch when they came in, peering at a selection of snacks on the table. She waved them to sit down, telling them they shouldn’t stand on ceremony, and soon they all were on first name basis with each other. When hearing about her achievements, it was easy to forget her age, but talking like this it was more obvious she wasn’t yet twenty, which made it all the more impressive.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, aiming the question at Steve. He realized that despite the casualness of the discussion, they both still held formal institutional power, and with the messages she’d sent to them she’d revealed something of her abilities, considering their phone numbers weren’t publicly available and they had stronger than usual encryption on their phones, the best Tony had to offer.

“About the presentation or in general?” he asked.

“Whatever you think is the most relevant.”

“I think Tony was right when he said that you and your country have more tricks up your sleeve than you have yet revealed.”

“And what do you think about it?”

Steve paused, considering his words carefully, not knowing why, but understanding this was crucial somehow, that the next steps would depend on his attitude, both as a person and as a representative of the Avengers. “I think there’s nothing unusual about countries possessing different levels of technology, and it doesn’t bother me the way it does a lot of people that my country isn’t on the top of the pile. What matters in my book is what you do with your skills and resources, and so far in my opinion you’re on the right path. I also get why you feel the need to hide the extent of your capabilities, and I agree it’s the wisest course, at least for now.”

“I’m glad. Because I wanted to talk about something that I think would be a good thing, but at the same time the technology involved is not something we’ll want people knowing of in general, at least not yet.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, and saw the curiosity he felt mirrored on his face. “You can rely on our discretion,” he said, and Bucky nodded as well.

She now turned to Bucky. “I’m sorry we can’t have this discussion completely in private.” She glanced at the two women standing by the wall, at ease but clearly ready to act at any moment. Steve knew, and he was sure Bucky could tell as well, that they were highly trained and belonged to the special group protecting the royal family. He’d met some of them earlier when he’d conversed with King T’Challa at a UN conference. “Unfortunately, my brother decided I was too reckless, and told the members of the Dora Milaje assigned to my protection not to obey if I commanded them to leave me alone.” She wrinkled her nose in annoyance, but grinned and appeared to relax when Bucky spoke.

“I can remember a few times when I would have found something like that useful.” Bucky glanced at Steve then, and he had to give him a mock affronted look, even though he always relished in the moments when Bucky referred so easily to their shared past.

“You see, I fully admit I’m curious,” Shuri continued, and it was all she needed to say, they knew then what this was about.

“You took a look at the scan of my arm,” Bucky said. Steve could tell he was a bit wary again even though the tension was almost hidden, the both of them now waiting where she’d take this.

“I did, and I couldn’t help but notice the shoulder area must be a problem. I could help with that, if you let me.”

It wasn’t at all what Steve had expected, because he knew how difficult it would be to solve the problem, but he also believed she could based on her apparent complete confidence. She probably could do something about it, and Bucky seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

“Why would you do that for someone you hadn’t even met before coming up with it?”

She thought for a moment, as if looking for words. Steve imagined it was probably just as uncharacteristic as it would have been from Tony, and it convinced him even more of her sincerity.

“For one, it would help me. We have made a lot of advances in medicine, but there are still areas where we need to make progress. We have a fairly good understanding of prosthetics, but we can’t currently make a difficult attachment such as yours, we still need more of the limb to be present to anchor a replacement. I can simulate some of the scenarios, but a human body is still different, and if you allowed me to get more familiar with how yours is attached, with what works and what problems there are, I could make a new, better one for you. With that knowledge I’d also be better able to help others. It would lessen the risk for the next serious case, and as such, it would be invaluable.” She paused again, her voice lowering as she obviously moved to more personal matters.

“I love our work here at the outreach centers, but it’s hard sometimes to see people not doing so well and not being able to help as much as I would like to, because it would just be bulldozing over their lives and be worse in the long term. When I see someone in pain, I want to help, and in your case, I think I could do so better than others. We have medical technologies that would help with the healing, besides our knowledge of the mechanics of prosthetics, and I’d be glad to know my efforts had spared someone from further pain.”

It was an immense offer, and it was no wonder Bucky obviously didn’t know what to say to it. Steve felt a bit hopeful, even grateful for it. The instinct he’d learned to rely on told him she was trustworthy, but he didn’t say anything. It had to be Bucky’s decision to decline or accept, and he wouldn’t do anything to influence it.

“I’m going to need to think about this,” Bucky finally said.

“Of course,” Shuri immediately agreed. “And if you have questions, of this or anything else, even if you just want to get to know me, you can use the number in the message I sent you. I know this is sudden, and you don’t know me, but I did want to offer it.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said. “It’s tricky with my arm for so many reasons, but it means a lot you want to help.”

They left soon afterward, walked in silence to the train, and didn’t talk for most of the journey. It wasn’t too crowded, and they were able to sit down shoulders resting together. After some time Bucky slumped, relaxing against Steve.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out, rubbing his eyes.

“You okay?”

“It’s a lot, and I’ll need to think about it. But not today. I just want a mountain of takeout and to watch something fun.”

“How about pizza and The Good Place?” Steve offered.

“Sounds like just the thing.”

* * *

The following Thursday, Steve had just come home from work and was considering what to make for a dinner, leaning toward pasta as he often did due to relative ease, when the doorbell rang. He took a second to think up an excuse in case it was one of his neighbors asking him to join them for dinner, because he didn’t feel like he was up to socializing.

It turned out to be Bucky behind the door, and while Steve was surprised to see him since it was rare that they came to each other without arranging it beforehand, he immediately opened the door wide. After all, Bucky didn’t count among those he was too tired to spend time with, never would.

It was immediately obvious something big was going on, with Bucky being more fidgety than usual. Steve didn’t think it was anything too bad, maybe a little worrisome, but Bucky seemed excited too, which alleviated Steve’s anxiety that had spiked.

“I’ve decided to take Shuri up on her offer,” Bucky blurted out before he’d even shed his coat, and immediately everything made sense.

Steve hadn’t seen Bucky since they’d spent the night on his couch after visiting the research center. He’d been a bit busy with work, but it had also felt like Bucky had needed some space, wanted to figure out his choice without influence, and Steve had respected that. They’d messaged each other every day, but it had been about casual things, and Steve hadn’t asked about the offer even though he’d been burning with curiosity. He had sent a bit more pictures of adorable or funny cats to Bucky than usual, though.

“That’s good. Have you discussed the practicalities yet?”

“Some. She’ll craft the arm in Wakanda, but we’re intending to have it attached here, with Helen coming into the team as well, since she knows my medical history best. Shuri offered me a chance to go to Wakanda for the operation and recovery, but I’d prefer staying here.”

“I’m glad it’s moving forward. I haven’t said anything, but I’ve been noticing recently you seem to have more problems with your shoulder.” Steve had had to restrain himself from asking or offering more help than Bucky had seemed to want.

“It appears the deterioration has been faster in parts than we expected, but I’ll soon be rid of it. I’m not exactly keen on the necessary recovery period, though. The shoulder will need to heal a couple of weeks after the surgery at least before I can start to use the new arm, but I’m glad to know Shuri can make something that shouldn’t repeat these problems in a few decades.”

“That’s great.” Steve hesitated, and then decided Bucky probably didn’t want to dwell on it. The relief in him was palpable, but he must have been thinking about his arm nonstop the last several days, and he could probably use a break. “Did you eat yet? I was thinking of making carbonara, I can make enough for you as well.”

“I didn’t actually, I could eat,” Bucky said, then rifled through his shoulder bag. “Also, I saw this and thought it would be fun for you.”

What he handed to Steve was a travel set of watercolors, both practical and cute. Steve immediately wished it would be spring already, it would be nice to go out to the park and paint without the hassle of bringing a full set. It was an endearing gesture, and familiar too. Back when they had lived together before the war, Bucky had used to bring him art things every once in a while, some better pencils for example, that Steve hadn’t been able to regularly afford or justify buying even when he’d been doing better, knowing that at any time he might get sick again and be in need of every penny he’d been able to save.

“Thank you.” He pulled Bucky into a hug, and he wanted to linger in it, a familiar feeling these days, even though it was sort of like walking on a tightrope. It always felt like he was revealing bits of his soul when close to Bucky, and he didn’t want to rush into anything even though by now it felt almost like gravity, the pull between them undeniable, and Steve didn’t want to fight it, but neither was he ready to speed the process up.

Time was a luxury he hadn’t had for most of his life, and even now he knew it was something of an illusion, anything could happen at any time. Still, he was content to let things move at a leisurely pace, and it appeared Bucky was too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one bed at Bucky's, Steve sleeps on the couch. Several beds at Steve's, they share a bed. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, with this chapter I reached a fun little milestone of a million words posted here on AO3.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted sometime midweek and the final chapter next weekend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of important changes in their lives.

There was spring in the air, although Steve knew that at the current time of the year it was probably only momentary, and that winter was likely to strike back with a vengeance at any moment. Still, he’d enjoyed the few moments of sun when he’d crossed from the Tower to the train station, and on a whim decided to step off the train on 7th Avenue and walk home from there. It would be nice crossing through the park, and he couldn’t avoid thinking that Bucky lived right on the way to his home, so he might pop in. Of course, they hadn’t arranged anything, so Bucky might be busy, not to mention Steve had managed to leave earlier than usual for once, and Bucky wouldn’t be expecting to hear from him.

It became a moot point, though, because Steve had barely entered the park and started to pick his way toward the southern end, when he saw a familiar figure in front of him, walking at a leisurely pace, head bowed forward. Steve jogged lightly to catch up with Bucky, wondering if his demeanor meant he was worrying over something, but when he came closer he saw it was just that Bucky was texting. He looked up when Steve approached, his expression turning to happy surprise immediately.

“You left work early.” Bucky slipped the phone into his pocket.

“Nothing much seems to be happening, so I thought I’d try to put in practice what I’ve been thinking about, to not spend most of my time at work. I’m glad I did, it’s a nice afternoon for a walk.”

“That’s what I thought, especially since it looks like it’ll take a turn toward worse again.”

“I was just thinking the promise of spring wasn’t to be trusted.” Steve shook his head. “Were you in the middle of something, by the way? Don’t mind me.”

“It’s okay, I already finished with Shuri.”

“Did she send more technical plans again?”

“No, she wanted to talk about color, of all things. All I care about is if it works.”

“But you’ll have to look at it every time you go to shower or wear short sleeves, so you shouldn’t hate it,” Steve pointed out.

“True. I don’t really know, though. I told her she could decide, just to not make it too flashy, and that it should be different from the old one.”

“That sounds good. Did she say anything about the timetable?”

“A couple of more weeks, probably, so we have to schedule the operation soon. We’ve talked about it with Helen to arrange the practicalities. It looks like with their methods it’ll be less invasive than I’d expected, and Shuri can accelerate healing enough that I shouldn’t have to stay overnight in observation. It’s going okay, all in all.”

They meandered through the park, and came to the edge a bit farther from Bucky’s than Steve had intended, but it didn’t really matter. He enjoyed the walk and was in no hurry to end it. Across the street his eye caught the window of a small antique shop, not the kind where everything cost an arm and a leg, but a cozy place where he felt one could find almost anything. He was crossing the street almost without thinking, but Bucky followed him without protest.

“Looking for something?” Bucky asked when they paused just inside the door.

“Nothing in particular, just looking to see if there’s something I’ll like. I’m still kind of only halfway done with my decorating.”

They browsed for a while, seeing many beautiful and interesting things, but nothing felt quite right for Steve, and he didn’t want to get something on a whim if he wasn’t sure he’d like it come next week. He wasn’t in a hurry with his project, even though he was once more motivated to make a proper home for himself. It had been a work in progress for years, and he liked his house so much that he had the patience to wait until he found the right furniture.

“I’ve been thinking of making one of the spare rooms upstairs into a library,” Steve said after a while.

“The one opposite your studio?”

“Yeah. It’s not a good fit for a guest room since all the bathrooms are kind of distant, and I like the idea of having a space to expand my book collection without it filling the living room, not to mention a more private space for reading or working.”

“I thought you’d come to the conclusion you work enough, though. No need to bring it home,” Bucky pointed out.

“You’re right, but I was thinking of a different kind of work. I’ve been giving to many charities over the years, but now that I’m arranging more time for myself, I’d like to help more within the community. I’d definitely keep the Avenger business at the Tower as much as possible, even the security demands that.”

“Okay, that makes more sense. So, are you looking for something for the library today? You already have a desk in that room, right?”

“I do.”

Soon after moving to the house, when he’d still been in the midst of eagerness to decorate, Steve had found a beautiful writing desk, old and well made, sturdy despite its delicate lines. Its surface had been badly scratched, which was probably why it had cost next to nothing at a yard sale Steve had found it. He’d brought it home, sanded it smooth and varnished it, and now it was in beautiful condition. It was also rather lonely, because it hadn’t felt right in Steve’s living room, so he’d moved it upstairs, and subsequently had run out of energy to decorate.

“So something that’ll go with it. Got it,” Bucky said, looking around. “You should install permanent bookshelves, though, if you envision getting a lot of books.”

“I know. I’ve been looking into it already.”

“How about that?” Bucky asked, pointing at an armchair.

Steve liked the shape of it, and the wooden parts were the same shade as his desk. He was less sure about the green upholstery, but it could be replaced if the chair worked otherwise. He sat down, and immediately knew he wouldn’t take it.

“It’s too low, feels like my knees are about to hit my chin,” he said.

“Yeah, it does look a bit funny. Let’s keep looking.”

It was in the very back corner of the store that Steve spotted something that was just right. It was a reading lamp, with a dark red shade and a graceful brass base. A little note by it stated it was in perfect working order.

“You’re taking it?” Bucky asked. “It’s pretty.”

“The table too,” Steve said, carefully lifting the lamp and handing it to Bucky. The table it had been set on was small and round, just the right size for the lamp, a book and a drink, all at hand’s reach next to the armchair he’d still need to find.

“Yeah, that’ll go with the desk, too.”

Steve paid and they headed out, Bucky still carrying the lamp, saying it was no trouble when Steve pointed out he’d be able to get both items back home by himself. Steve didn’t fight him about it, after all he was never opposed to spending more time with Bucky.

At Steve’s house, they took the table and the lamp upstairs, and set them up in the room. They stood for a moment there, but Steve finally cracked up, and Bucky followed, laughing and leaning into Steve. The room did look hilarious, because it was nearly bare, with nothing there but the desk, small table, and a lamp, with heavy curtains drawn in front of the window to help to keep the chill out. They were of serviceable dark grey, leftover from the previous owner, but they’d have to go soon. Now Steve envisioned curtains in a deep shade of red, the same color as the lamp he’d just brought.

Steve made them coffee and Bucky helped with putting together some sandwiches, the both of them hungry after the comparatively leisurely walk. They ate at the kitchen table, and Bucky smiled at the orchid still sitting by the window once he was done.

“Are you planning to get more plants now that you know you won’t necessarily kill them?”

“Give it time, I’m not sure these few weeks is enough to be sure I’m competent,” Steve said, and Bucky kicked his foot under the table. Steve retaliated, leaving his foot resting against Bucky’s. It felt comfortable. “But I might, since I’m now looking to finish everything here. I like to have flowers in my garden, although granted, I’ve chosen species that pretty much take care of themselves. It’s funny I never thought to have plants inside.”

“A good time to start now, I suppose. I’m glad you’re thinking of your house again. It’s been nice all this time, but many parts of it lacked life, I thought.”

“I know. I’ve been avoiding it, I think,” Steve said, trying to put his words carefully so that it wouldn’t come out as dire as it probably was. “I wasn’t ready to grow roots in this time, and I threw myself at my work, because it was important, even if I felt like all of this was temporary. I don’t want to feel like that anymore, this is my time now, and I need to finish making it my home. I started it years ago already, but I think I’m finally ready to commit.”

“I’ll help you, if you want,” Bucky said, and Steve nodded eagerly, because of course he did want Bucky’s help, he wanted the house to be a place they both liked. “Although in a couple of weeks it’ll be more theoretical than practical help, what with the surgery coming. Helen said that even with the accelerated healing, I’ll need to take it easy for a while, because it’ll be a huge stress in the shoulder area, and we’ll need to make sure it’ll heal properly so that there won’t be any complications down the line.”

“Have you thought of the recovery time, since you didn’t want to go to Wakanda?” Steve asked, frowning. “You probably shouldn’t be alone.”

“Probably would be better to not try to do everything by myself,” Bucky agreed, but Steve could see a smile at the corner of his mouth, realizing where they were headed.

“Yes, you jerk, of course you can stay here for it.” Steve kicked at Bucky again, but Bucky was ready for it, and trapped Steve’s foot between his. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Feels familiar, doesn’t it? Going back to living together,” Bucky said, his expression so content Steve was almost overcome with happiness when seeing it.

“It does.” Steve hesitated, then decided he might as well come clean, considering Bucky also had made the effort. “When I first bought this house, I kind of hoped we’d live here together, so I’m glad we’re getting there. No, don’t,” He said when Bucky looked chagrined, “I don’t want you to worry or regret. It’s probably not been an ideal journey here for either of us, but I’m happy where we’re now, and happy about where we’re going. It’s enough, and I don’t regret anything.”

Bucky looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. “I guess I get what you’re saying. I know we both could have done better, and it’ll hopefully help us avoid making some mistakes in the future, but dwelling on it would just make us miserable now.”

“And I don’t want that, I want to try to look forward now,” Steve said.

“Me too. I think we’ve both been holding on to the past too hard.”

“It’s not easy to let go, but I’m glad we’re getting there.”

* * *

“Looks good,” Sam said, tapping one of the shelves that was already up in the library.

They’d managed to find the right kind of wood and made a plan for the shelves, and now approximately a third of them were up. Steve thought they probably wouldn’t have it all finished in the week they had left before Bucky’s surgery, but it wasn’t really a goal either. The room would be finished in its own time. They’d also visited a couple more small furniture stores, and they’d found a table lamp and a ceiling lamp, as well as a carpet and a chair to go with the desk.

“We still need a couple of armchairs, or maybe a chair and a small couch,” Steve said, and quirked his eyebrow when Sam grinned, not quite seeing what was funny.

“You said we,” Sam clarified. “Will it be more permanent then, Barnes moving in?”

Steve shrugged, because he didn’t know the answer to that question. They’d talked about logistics of Bucky moving in, and his things had started migrating over, but they hadn’t talked about the length of the visit at all, not that Steve had been terribly keen on doing so. The old wish of them living permanently together in the house had reared its head again, no longer faint and fragile but insistent now.

For all that Steve had nothing specific to offer, Sam took it in stride. It seemed he’d been convinced since the holidays of both Steve not leaning on Bucky like a crutch and Bucky really wanting to reconnect, enough that he no longer thought it might end up in tears. They’d never really talked about it, but it was obvious in the way Sam now more easily accepted even the less conventional manifestations of their friendship, and how they were going about it. Steve had a distinct feeling that Sam thought they were going about it in the wrong order when it came to some things, but he’d also accepted it seemed to work for them, so he was content to let it lie. It was one of the many things Steve appreciated about Sam, his easy acceptance that people were different, and while along with his job he’d learned tools he could give them to help them make better choices in life, he also knew not one model fit all. That understanding would help Sam going forward, if he accepted Steve’s offer.

They weren’t there just to let Sam see what they’d been working on, but Steve hadn’t yet told Sam why he’d been invited that day. Ever since he’d decided to make changes to his role among the Avengers, Steve had been trying to figure out when the best time would be, but now with Bucky’s surgery looming closer he’d realized there never really was a perfect time. There were always arguments one could make why stability at that particular moment would be better, and Steve knew he was inclined to listen to that inner voice. Sam had definitely been right when he’d said Steve historically hadn’t been successful at working less.

Hence, Steve had decided that since they weren’t in the middle of a full blown crisis, he might as well make the changes now rather than wait. He’d spent the past week starting the process of moving some of his duties to people who would be a good fit to handle them going forward, as well as making sure they in turn wouldn’t be overwhelmed with work. They needed to make the change a sustainable one, rather than moving the danger of burnout to other people. It wouldn’t happen instantly, but the process had been started, and Steve felt good about it, knowing that he’d have more time to focus on the issues that were important and where his strengths and skills would be most useful.

They headed back downstairs, but Steve let Sam go ahead and stopped to grab his shield from where it was leaning against the wall by the door of his bedroom. Sam was waiting for him in the living room, and when he saw the shield he frowned.

“Didn’t know there was action to be had,” he said, glancing around.

“There isn’t,” Steve reassured him with a smile. “The reason why I asked you to come was that I’ve decided it’s time for me to step away from being Captain America. I did my part, but times are moving ahead, and I think it would be best that the shield go forward too.” Steve held the shield up, offering it to Sam who just stared at it for a bit.

Steve waited patiently while Sam clearly processed the offer, going through several emotions before landing on determined, reaching out to take the shield, weighing it in his hands after Steve let go.

“I’ll do my best,” Sam said, and Steve nodded.

“That’s all anyone can ask.”

He didn’t tell Sam how tough it would be, because Sam already knew. Steve wouldn’t have made the offer if he hadn’t been sure Sam would be able to make a fully informed decision, and he’d taken the responsibility on with clear eyes and a will to carry it out. Now that the mantle was passed on, Steve felt much lighter, relieved because he knew the duty was in good hands with Sam.

“I’m excited to see where you’ll take it, and how the meaning of the title grows with you.”

“Don’t get all emotional with me,” Sam said but grinned, reaching out to pull Steve into a hug, which Steve happily returned.

They talked a bit more, about the changes and how they’d go about it, but also just regular things going on in their lives. Finally Sam decided it was time for him to leave, and they were standing on the porch saying goodbyes, when a car pulled up. Both of them immediately recognized it was Natasha’s. Out came not only her, but Bucky also, and when they pulled out bags from the trunk, it was clear she’d been helping him with packing.

When they walked up, both their attention zeroed on the shield on Sam’s back. 

“Holy shit, you actually did it,” Bucky said, grin wide as he bounded up the stairs and pulled Steve into a swift hug.

Natasha smiled too, going to Sam first and then coming to Steve, hugging them both. “Bet it feels good,” she said when she pulled away from Steve, who could only nod. The fact that after congratulating Sam Bucky had come back and was now lingering next to him, hand resting at the small of his back, only enhanced the glow inside him.

“I did my part during the war, and it probably worked well enough then. But it’s a new time, and I think Sam carrying it will now be more effective,” he said.

“And you’ll maybe get rid of those bags under your eyes,” Natasha said.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have any,” Steve said, and sidestepped a bit when Bucky poked him on the side, although not far enough away to be out of reach.

“The only reason you don’t is the serum, which is pretty much irrelevant in my book,” Bucky told him, and the others nodded in agreement.

Soon Natasha and Sam left in her car, and Steve and Bucky took everything inside. Steve helped carry things into the guest room they’d prepared for Bucky, and left to make dinner while Bucky organized everything to his liking. Steve secretly hoped they might continue the way they’d started, sleeping in the same bed, but he knew the importance of having a space of one’s own, and hence he’d done his best to make sure Bucky’s room was as comfortable as possible.

They ate, put another set of shelves up, and watched some television. Bucky stayed until it was late, and it was probably natural that he ended up going to his room to get ready for bed. Steve washed up and brushed his teeth in his bathroom, changed into pajamas, but when he was all done he didn’t put the light out, and instead lingered on his bed, thumbing through a book but not really reading, because he was listening to Bucky instead. It was quiet enough that Bucky had probably settled down already, and after a while Steve realized he wouldn’t be able to focus on his book even if he tried, so it would be better to just try to sleep.

He was just about to turn the light off when he heard movement from Bucky’s room, in all probability deliberate, because if needed Bucky could have been at his door without alerting him, and so Steve waited, listening to the steps coming closer.

“I’m awake,” he said when Bucky was at the door, and without waiting any longer Bucky slipped in.

“Restless?” Bucky asked.

“No, I was just thinking. Feels strange.”

“To be in the same house but in different rooms?” At Steve’s nod, Bucky said, “For me too.”

Steve didn’t need any more prompting, and when he patted the side of bed next to him, Bucky immediately came and slipped under covers. When he was settled, Steve turned the light out.

“Maybe I should bring some of my things here instead,” Bucky said.

“Maybe. Although I like not having to share a bathroom with you in the mornings,” Steve said and fully expected the kick on the shin he got for it.

“It’s funny though, I don’t have trouble sleeping in my apartment,” Bucky added after a moment. “I mean, more than you’d expect. But here being alone is just strange.”

“Does it bother you? Because I’m completely fine like this.”

“If you’re okay, so am I,” Bucky said, and Steve could hear him smiling.

“Night, Buck.”

“Good night, Steve.”

* * *

For the week leading up to Bucky’s surgery, Steve had been occasionally anxious about something happening that would demand his attention, which would in turn prevent him from being with Bucky. It had been decided the surgery would be performed regardless of his presence, unless what happened would put the center at risk, but Steve knew Bucky would be more comfortable with him there.

It was scheduled for a Monday, which was the day the Wakandan center was closed to the general public and would mean less traffic in the premises, and the previous Friday they got an alert of potential Hydra activity. It turned out to be a credible tip, but the cell was small, and Steve decided they might as well start as they would be going forward; not having him go out unless he was absolutely needed. Tony and Clint had already some time ago been moved to that bracket of the Avengers roster to give them more time to be with their families, Bruce had never been among the first responders for obvious reasons, and Thor was off-world more often than not.

Still, for a small base, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Pietro would be plenty, and Steve felt very proud seeing the twins especially stand taller with the added responsibility. They carried the trust well, and Steve didn’t really worry when they headed out.

It was all sorted by Monday morning New York time when Steve and Bucky headed out toward the Wakandan center in Steve’s car. He didn’t drive that much during his regular daily life, but having a car at the ready came handy at moments like this. After all, he’d want to bring Bucky home after the operation in as much comfort as possible.

Everything went without a hiccup, Shuri and Helen’s teams working together seamlessly, and when they moved Bucky to recovery, everyone was smiling. Steve was allowed to sit next to Bucky while they waited for him to come out of sedation, and as everything quieted down he focused on letting the tension bleed out of his body.

They expected Bucky to start waking up in approximately half an hour, although they couldn’t be absolutely sure, since they had no conclusive data on how Bucky’s metabolism would react to such strong sedation, and had had to make sure they wouldn’t underestimate the effectiveness. So far the predictions from Shuri’s model seemed to have held, though, and there had been no danger of Bucky either suddenly waking up nor falling toward coma, and with that Steve was feeling more hopeful that even the pain medication created for him would work better than anything he’d ever received.

It had been just over half an hour when Bucky stirred for the first time, not quite conscious yet but moving toward it. Steve leaned in and gently pressed his palm over Bucky’s chest to discourage him from moving and causing accidental damage.

“You’re safe,” Steve told him. “You’re in the Wakandan research center, and the operation on your shoulder went as planned. Everything is fine, you can rest and recover.”

Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, and his lips moved, trying to form a word that didn’t come out. He moved his hand though, searching, and Steve caught it.

“I’ll stay with you the whole time.”

Bucky gently squeezed his hand and visibly calmed, falling toward sleep again. A few moments later Helen came to check on him, and Steve told her of what had happened.

“He seems to be waking up as predicted. It’ll take a few hours probably, he’ll come to consciousness and falls back to sleep at intervals. It all looks good, and there are no indications in the brainscan that he’s in pain, so the medication seems to be working.”

For the next couple of hours Steve continued sitting by Bucky, holding on to his hand because it seemed to calm him when he surfaced. It started to happen a bit more frequently as time passed, and on the fourth time Bucky managed to open his eyes and smile at Steve. He fell asleep again after it, but woke up ten minutes later again, and that time he didn’t start drifting immediately. Steve offered him a drink of water from a straw.

“I feel like I’ve been through a wringer,” Bucky said, his voice steady and eyes brightening as the sedative finally relinquished its hold.

“I can ask Helen to adjust the medication, if you’re in pain,” Steve offered, but Bucky tugged his hand and shook his head.

“Not in pain, really, just kind of floating. And itchy, sort of, on the inside. Do you get that, when healing?”

“Yeah. People always think fast healing is great, and it is practical in many ways, but I kind of hate it when it’s happening.”

“Same. But I hate it less than the continuous ache I’ve been getting recently, so it’s a win. Did you say everything went okay? I think I remember that.”

“Yeah, it did. They completed faster than they’d projected, and as far as Shuri could tell, all the nerve connections took.”

Bucky let out a breath, and from its shakiness Steve could tell how worried he’d been until then even though he’d hidden it well from everyone. He leaned in and touched his forehead to Bucky’s since he couldn’t properly hug him yet in fear of hurting him. Bucky gripped the hand he was still holding, and Steve felt fondness surge through him, so strong he had to express it somehow, and without really thinking he pressed a kiss on Bucky’s temple. He felt embarrassed immediately after he’d done it, because it certainly wasn’t their usual behavior, and he knew he was blushing from the heat on his cheeks. Bucky was smiling, though, when he pulled back.

“Kind of sappy of you,” Bucky said, almost laughing.

“I can tone it down,” Steve offered, remembering only then that even though they were alone, they were constantly monitored for Bucky’s health.

Bucky didn’t seem to mind, because he shook his head and gripped Steve’s hand tighter again. “I like you being sappy.”

Steve couldn’t do anything but lean closer and gently bump his forehead to Bucky’s temple before sinking back in his chair again, casting in his mind for something to talk about while they waited.

About an hour later the last of the sedation had worn off and Bucky was clearly starting to feel the pain in his shoulder, although he said it was less acute than he would have expected. It was then that Shuri and Helen came in to conduct some of the post-operation checks.

“You’ll get more painkillers soon,” Shuri said while she was scanning Bucky’s shoulder. “I need to test the response from the nerve connections now, and it’ll work better like this.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky said. “It’s not as painful as I expected.”

“It shouldn’t be. The table you’re lying on is my own invention, it stimulates the cellular regeneration and helps with healing. It seems to work on you, although relatively less than it would for a baseline human. I think there’s only so far cells can be pushed, and your serum already handles part of that. You should close your eyes now, by the way. I’ll give you a simulation of the feedback from the limb, and it’ll confuse your brain if you see it’s not actually there.”

Bucky closed his eyes, and after a moment frowned. “Is this how it’ll be when the arm is attached?”

“How does it feel?” Shuri asked.

“Different. Not like the old one, not like my right. Not bad, but I’ll imagine it’ll take a while to get used to.”

“Probably, but the brain is very resilient, as you know. It’ll soon become your new normal.”

They performed a series of tests, Shuri at control, asking Bucky to do things like close a fist even though there actually wasn’t anything yet attached to his shoulder. At the end Shuri was looking very satisfied, pronouncing it a total success, and that all the nerve connections had taken.

They had to wait a few more hours, but Bucky had his appetite back and they had dinner with Shuri and Helen. Later that night, Bucky was pronounced well enough that he’d be able to leave, with strict instructions to not aggravate the shoulder even though he’d healed a lot faster than was normal. Shuri estimated it would take approximately three weeks before everything was healed well enough for Bucky to take his new arm in use without risks. It would probably be a long three weeks for Bucky, but Steve resolved to help him as much as he could.

The journey home passed without trouble, and when there Bucky was tired again, so Steve helped him into bed. They didn’t really need to discuss it, they just went to Steve’s room and soon Bucky was lying down again, supported by several pillows so that there was no pressure on the shoulder.

Steve went to wash himself after getting Bucky situated, and when he came back he was a bit alarmed to find Bucky with his right arm thrown over his eyes and trembling.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

It took a minute, but finally Bucky let out a breath and looked at Steve. His eyes were glistening, but his smile was genuine. “Nothing wrong. I was just overwhelmed suddenly, when I thought about how many people have gone above and beyond to help me. It’s a huge thing, and I don’t know how to be grateful enough for it.”

Steve understood Bucky, because he’d felt much the same during those miraculous seconds after emerging from the machine that had kickstarted the serum, when the pain had suddenly been gone, the world had been clear, and he’d had energy to spare. He’d come down from that very abruptly with Erskine’s murder, and he was viciously glad Bucky wouldn’t have to experience something like it.

“I’m sure everyone will be happy if you can live your life a bit more to your liking, in the future. It feels like they’re the kind of people who need no other reward.”

“Still overwhelming,” Bucky said but laughed now, although it turned into a yawn soon.

“Let’s try and sleep. If you wake up in pain, wake me up rather than trying to get the pills yourself. I’ll definitely tattle to Helen if you do,” Steve added when Bucky looked mulish.

“Fine. But in return, next time you’re injured on a mission, you’ll do what the doctors recommend.”

Steve grinned, thinking it was a small price to pay for Bucky’s comfort, no matter how much he hated the medical. “I’m aiming for there to be less chances of those.”

“I know, and trust me, it’s a wonderful thing.”

Steve turned out the light, and curled up on his side facing toward Bucky, who, without apparently thinking of it, reached out again and took Steve’s hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, Steve's house is [somewhere in this area](https://www.google.fi/maps/@40.6374014,-73.963371,369m/data=!3m1!1e3) and Bucky's apartment is [somewhere around here](https://www.google.fi/maps/@40.6525412,-73.9641876,241m/data=!3m1!1e3).
> 
> The final chapter will be posted sometime in the weekend (probably on Sunday unless I'll be more productive than I suspect I'll be capable).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some happy surprises and important realizations.

On the first night after Bucky’s surgery, he woke up at around three, needing more pain medication. Steve woke up when he stirred, and fetched a new glass of water and shook the pills from the container. He rearranged Bucky’s pillows, and couldn’t help smiling at it.

Bucky saw it, of course. “What’s so funny?”

“Not funny, really, I was just thinking that this is definitely the tables turned. You had a terrible habit of trying to arrange my bed even when I had only one pillow that was flat as anything because it was so old.”

“Well, enjoy it while you have the chance,” Bucky said, but he was also smiling now, and the lines of pain were already disappearing. The medication seemed to work fast, for which Steve was grateful.

Bucky slept late into morning, and Steve slipped out of the bed alone to get some work done before breakfast, grabbing an apple and a handful of nuts to quell the immediate hunger. He’d arranged to work from home for the start of Bucky’s recovery just in case he was needed. They were scheduled to go to the Tower in the afternoon for Bucky’s follow up check with Helen, and Steve would be able to handle any work he’d need to do in person then.

He got in a couple of hours of pattern analysis, trying to figure out what Hydra were up to, and planning for some group exercises that would take into account the changes in the Avengers’ active roster, and when he heard movement upstairs he started on the breakfast. Bucky’s own rapid healing combined with whatever Shuri had managed to do to accelerate it meant the wound would have healed enough that Bucky would be able to take a shower to clean up. It took him a bit longer than usual to dress up, but it might have been that he was talking to Shuri at the same time. Steve caught his voice here and there, but not the words.

Shuri had given Bucky two beads to help her monitor his healing, as well as allowing them to communicate. She’d said they were similar to two of the three beads every Wakandan started with, one to keep track of health and another to communicate. Apparently they were traditionally worn on the wrist of the non-dominant hand, and Shuri had thought it would probably be most practical for Bucky to wear them on a chain around his neck for now. She’d said that when he was ready to wear the arm, they’d no longer be necessary, since she’d be able to build the same functions in the arm itself.

“How do you feel?” Steve asked when Bucky came to the kitchen, pointing at the chair when Bucky headed toward the counter. “You’re supposed to take things easy.”

“I’m feeling a lot more sympathetic toward the younger you, suddenly,” Bucky said, but didn’t protest. “And better, the pain is definitely going down, there’s no sign of infection, and Shuri said everything looks to be progressing as planned. It is at the annoyingly itchy phase where I kind of just want to scream at it, though.”

Steve winced. “Yeah, I know that one. Honestly I’d almost rather take the pain than that.”

Even with his accelerated healing that had allowed him to come home the same day rather than having a prolonged hospital stay, it was obvious it all had taken a toll on Bucky, who settled on the couch with a book after breakfast, but was soon asleep once more. He didn’t even stir when Steve covered him with a blanket. He woke up for lunch, and looked more rested in the afternoon, which was good, because they had an evaluation session scheduled for the day.

When they’d set up the date for the surgery, Steve had questioned whether it was wise to have it so close to the evaluation, because they were scheduled in advance and could only be moved if something major came up. Bucky hadn’t wanted to postpone, though; ever since he’d decided to have the new arm he’d been determined to have it done as quickly as was possible, and so they’d agreed that if something unexpected came up with the surgery, they’d move the evaluation, but otherwise it would go ahead as planned.

Steve waited in a nearby conference room as usual, and he even managed to do some work, with Natasha and Sam popping in to brainstorm the training schedule further with him. He was alone again when Bucky, Helen, and Dr Friedmann came in, and he immediately let go of the tension he’d been holding, because all of them were smiling and at ease. The reports confirmed that everything, including Bucky’s recovery from the surgery, was progressing normally.

After the usual report, Doctor Friedmann added, “We have discussed this among the team, and have decided that we are going to recommend stopping the evaluations to the overseeing committee. You can tell them today that our official report will arrive soon, Captain Rogers. We are of the opinion that there is no danger of regression in a way that would endanger the general public, which was the purpose of the evaluations, and hence there will be no further need for them.” She looked at Bucky. “We do recommend you keep up with your meetings with the mental health professionals and have regular medical checks for your own wellbeing, but as far as we’re concerned, it should no longer be the matter of the government.”

Steve had felt elation from the start, and by the time Doctor Friedmann finished, he was smiling so hard it almost hurt. Bucky in turn was looking completely gobsmacked, and it probably would take him some time to process the fact he was likely to be completely free soon, pending the committee agreement. Steve was sure it was only a matter of time before the official release would arrive.

It came the following day already, sooner than Steve had dared to hope. He’d expected they’d have to deal with at least a few days of waiting, of Bucky having to hover on the cusp of freedom, knowing that if the political mood was wrong it might be snatched away. Steve was grateful when they didn’t have to wait on the edge for any longer, that when their phones pinged late at night when they were just getting into bed it was an email with the official decision declaring Bucky was completely free, no conditions to it anymore.

It was probably good they didn’t need to do anything but rest that night, because they were both overwhelmed with the decision, even when there had been hope for a long time now that Bucky would eventually get there. The reality was still larger and sharper than anything Steve had imagined, more wonderful than he could have expected when put in comparison with everything Bucky had been through. 

He gently tugged Bucky’s phone from his hand and put it on the side table, and then he tucked Bucky in under the blankets when he was unable to do it himself, being so obviously reeling, brimming with emotions. After he’d put out the light Steve curled up underneath the covers, but shifted when Bucky reached for him with his only hand, trying to pull him closer. It took a bit of maneuvering, but in the end they found a comfortable position where Bucky was on his back supported by the cushions, his injured shoulder on the other side from Steve, who was on his side, arm across Bucky’s waist, holding him tight.

“I’m exhausted and yet I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep,” Bucky finally confessed. “I wonder if this’ll make more sense tomorrow, if I’ll be able to actually process I’m no longer under the kind of scrutiny I’ve been these past years.”

“You’ll have time to sort it out, now,” Steve said, and because he wanted to say so many things but didn’t have the words for them, he pulled himself up instead, and pressed a kiss on Bucky’s temple.

“Sap,” Bucky accused him, echoing his words from just days ago, even when it felt like a lot more time should have passed, considering how their lives had suddenly changed.

“You said you liked it, so you’ll just have to deal with it now,” Steve said, and settled closer, his head resting on Bucky’s pillow, the long strands of his hair tickling Steve’s nose. The dark would have hidden his blush even if Bucky had looked at him, but Steve felt more confident too, slowly pushing into the closeness, same as Bucky did, the two of them coming together as inevitably as if pulled by the gravity.

* * *

The next few days passed quietly, with Bucky recovering and Steve mostly basking in his continued presence. He went to the Tower a couple of times but only for a few hours at the time, and otherwise worked from home, but it was fairly quiet in general, and he had ample time to just be with Bucky.

When Bucky had first arrived at New York with the twins, Steve had wanted to do everything to help him, and he’d felt inadequate, knowing there were so many things that were outside of his power. Now with Bucky in recovery he was very conscious of his changed outlook, of the much healthier mindset he had toward it. He still couldn’t help Bucky with everything, it would be impossible for any single person to make all of someone else’s problems vanish, but he knew he did help in some ways, and he now could believe it mattered. He’d accepted he couldn’t be everything at all times, and it had given him a sense of peace. It probably made things easier for Bucky as well, Steve had to acknowledge to himself. He was sure he hadn’t been very good for Bucky’s peace of mind when he’d tried so hard that he’d most likely ended up pushing too much.

Now he could sit with Bucky in the evenings, and believe his mere presence was enough and that he didn’t need to come up with anything else. It had been the same when he’d been sick before the war, he’d never needed anything more from Bucky than him being there, and considering this he probably should have figured it out earlier, but he also knew he’d never been easy on himself. It had been a long road to where he now could accept it, at least somewhat, and could aim to get better at it.

One of the ways he could now help Bucky was to make sure he didn’t get too bored while having to take things easy, and he asked some of their friends to spend some time with them on Saturday night. The twins, Natasha, and Sam all agreed to come, and they had a cozy dinner between the six of them, followed by a movie and snacks. Steve never actually caught the title of the movie, because he was busy gathering the food and drinks while the others discussed their options. When the movie started, he saw it was set in winter, and the main character was an adorable young woman, which meant Natasha’s choice had won, and he’d probably enjoy it well enough.

“It’s pretty much the last appropriate time to watch these,” Nat said when Steve grinned at her. She was right too, the days were warming up and the winter ending.

She was leaning on Sam more than the couch, the two of them having taken over one of the corners. Bucky was in the other corner, and Steve in the middle, although definitely closer to Bucky’s end. When he’d bought the couch it had felt too large, an unnecessary luxury, but now he was glad Natasha had talked him around to it, because the four of them fit comfortably. Wanda was curled up in the large armchair she’d always preferred, and Pietro was in the rocking chair. He usually had a hard time staying in one place at a time, but the rocking seemed to help him with it.

By now Steve knew everyone’s snack preferences fairly well, and he’d distributed them in bowls so that everyone had what they liked and they didn’t need to pass things around while watching the movie. He and Bucky were sharing a bowl of popcorn and a smaller one of candy, and as they were watching Steve noticed he’d shifted closer to Bucky without thinking about it, only realizing it when their thighs were comfortably nestled together. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, and in fact after a while he shifted sideways, probably to put less pressure on his shoulder, and stretched his legs over Steve’s lap. They set the bowls so that they both could reach them, and only after a moment Steve realized he was unconsciously petting Bucky’s shins. When he noticed he stopped, but Bucky nudged him with his knee, so he picked it up again. It was close and comfortable, and Steve was content to be in the house that by now definitely felt like a home, with the people that he was closest to, his new family that he’d gained over the years since waking up from the ice.

The warmth of it carried through the evening, and he was still buoyed by it when they were getting into bed. By now Bucky’s shoulder was much improved, he didn’t need any more pain medication, nor did he need the additional pillows to make sure he was comfortable. It was a good development beyond the obvious, the additional benefit was that cuddling was much easier. After Bucky had been declared completely free, the night had been spent in an embrace, and they’d returned to it every night. It was now natural to move toward the center of the bed and meet there rather than stay strictly on their own sides, and so it was that night as well, Steve settling against Bucky, the long lines of their bodies touching.

* * *

Over the last few days they’d usually woken up in some kind of contact, usually Steve’s arm thrown over Bucky, who’d so far tended to sleep on his back, because it was most comfortable for his shoulder. This morning Bucky was turned toward Steve, and somehow in their sleep Steve had ended up with his head resting on Bucky’s right arm rather than on a pillow, their faces again almost nose to nose.

He only had a flash of a moment to wonder that Bucky wasn’t feeling subconsciously trapped before he also stirred and opened his eyes with a smile. Up until then, Steve had had many dreams and hopes for their relationship and what he wanted from it, including wanting to live with Bucky, and more recently wanting to sleep in the same bed rather than in their own rooms. It was now, on this Sunday morning, that he achieved a new clarity of what he wanted and what exactly it meant.

He wanted to wake up to Bucky’s presence every morning for the rest of his life. He now knew he wouldn’t need anyone else, not as long as Bucky wanted the same. He wanted to share every aspect of their lives, both those they were already familiar with as well as all that they yet had to discover. He also understood that he’d wanted this for a while now, and that he couldn’t say exactly when it had started. It might have been relatively recently, after they’d reconnected, or it might have been a long time ago, before the war. He couldn’t tell, and once upon a time he might have lingered on the uncertainty, might have been bothered by it and wondered about missed opportunities, but he didn’t now. He followed the philosophy he’d adopted some time ago; that there was no use for regrets when no real harm had been done, and that instead they should just grasp the happiness that was now at reach.

It must have been visible on him somehow, the realization, because he saw understanding reflected in Bucky’s eyes before his smile widened and he leaned into Steve.

Their noses bumped and their lips didn’t quite align when they first met, but Steve pressed closer, curled his arm around Bucky to steady him and tilted his head, and then they were kissing, gently at first but deepening with the overwhelming need that took over.

They pressed together, yearning for closeness, Bucky’s thigh sliding between Steve’s and fitting there as if made for it. Arousal was a norm rather than an exception for Steve in the mornings, and now with their bodies coming together it rushed forth, his cock hardening fast as it pressed against Bucky’s hip. Bucky was in the same state as he was, pressing into him, trying to find friction and pull him even closer with the arm still trapped under Steve.

It was fast and wonderful and too much all of a sudden, maybe for the both of them because they pulled back at the same time, drawing in breath. Bucky was flushed and smiling, and Steve couldn’t help but grin in return. It was impossible to stay apart for long, though, the light of happiness in Bucky’s eyes drew Steve in for another kiss. This time he kept it softer, slower, parting his lips and tasting Bucky, getting familiar with his mouth. Bucky let out a pleased hum as he curled his tongue against Steve’s, the sound coursing through Steve and bathing his heart in warm delight.

The next sound Bucky made was a huff that definitely betrayed annoyance, and while it was adorable, Steve still pulled away to make sure it wasn’t anything serious.

“What’s going on?”

“I’d just really like to have another hand right now,” Bucky said, and the way he looked down his body told Steve exactly where he was at.

Steve dragged his hand down Bucky’s back to the hem of his t-shirt, and slid up again underneath it, pressing his palm against the firm muscles on his side, careful not to go too near the still injured shoulder.

“And what would you do with another hand?” Steve asked, while playfully brushing his thumb over Bucky’s nipple, making him gasp.

Bucky wriggled around so that he got his thigh hooked over Steve’s hip, and pulled him close again, pressing his hips very deliberately against Steve’s. Steve went just a bit cross-eyed with the sensation, the pressure heavenly and promising more.

“You know what I would do,” Bucky said.

There was bravado in his voice, but underneath it Steve detected just a hint of nervousness, and it encouraged him to ask for what he wanted, because it indicated this was just as important to Bucky as it was for him.

“Here, just.” Steve gently pressed on Bucky’s chest, getting him to settle on his back. “You can do that later in return, just let me touch you for now.”

“Well, if you insist.” Bucky obviously tried to make it sound like it was a hardship, but he wasn’t successful at all with the breathlessness in his voice and the way he was biting his lower lip. Steve kissed him there, just because he could, and then he did what he really wanted, he moved on to explore Bucky’s body.

There’d been butterflies in Steve’s stomach, but they disappeared as soon as he focused on Bucky, on learning what made him tick and what he liked. Steve was reasonably familiar with Bucky’s body since he was aware of all the medically relevant things, not to mention he’d helped Bucky to deal with his muscle pains by massaging him on several occasions, but this was very different. There was no way of learning even a fraction of what there was to discover that morning, but it thrilled him to know they’d have more time for it now, that this was only the start.

He helped Bucky up so that they could get rid of his shirt, and he shucked his own off as an afterthought, both because Bucky insistently tugged at it and he realized he definitely wanted to feel more skin on skin. He touched and he tasted Bucky, there was no plan for it, he was guided by his whims and by Bucky’s reactions, finding a ticklish spot here, a sensitive area there, everything new and wonderful. Sometimes he returned to face Bucky, their lips meeting for yet another kiss.

Soon the skin on skin wasn’t enough, and they scrambled out of their pants, every bit of clothing now an obstacle. Steve bent down to taste the groove of Bucky’s hip, and Bucky exhaled loudly, his hand trembling on Steve’s head where he was petting him, before once more tugging him up to lay beside him.

“Stay,” Bucky said, his voice breathless. “I want to see you.”

It was an easy request to fulfill, because Steve wanted to look at Bucky too. He also wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to taste every inch of his skin, but there would be other chances, and so he slotted himself against Bucky, still careful of his injury, and made sure as much of them was in contact as possible before taking both their cocks in hand.

He kept looking at Bucky with the same purpose that he’d touched him earlier, curious for every indication of pleasure, of bliss, of surprise. He looked even when he felt like going cross-eyed with how good it felt to be together, to aim for release not by himself but with Bucky. He couldn’t look anywhere but in Bucky’s eyes, meeting them as much as he could, Bucky’s eyelids fluttering sometimes when Steve touched him just right, but opening again to look at him, as if he needed the connection just as much as Steve did.

Of course, in the end it was impossible for them to keep their eyes open, and then they pressed together, tasting each other again, breathing the same air, panting in between them as they came. Afterward, they lay together for a long time, reluctant to part from each other and maybe shattering the contentment.

Finally, when they were more itchy than comfortable, they had to get up. It still didn’t mean the rest of the morning was like any other, because to Steve it would have been impossible right now to tear himself away from Bucky, and it seemed it was a mutual feeling. They took a shower together, thankfully the ensuite bathroom was large enough to comfortably fit them both. After the shower Steve rubbed in the cream Shuri had provided for Bucky’s shoulder, meant to help with healing the scarring. Even though Bucky had used it only for such a short time so far, it seemed to Steve’s eyes to already have helped, and what was even better was that Bucky wasn’t in any pain even in the area where they’d removed the old attachment of the arm and inserted the new. He still wasn’t ready to wear the new arm, it would be safe only a couple of weeks from now, but the fact that there was no more pain was a significant relief to them both.

During the breakfast they talked as they usually did, the topics nothing they hadn’t touched before, but neither of them seemed to be able to stop smiling, and their legs were very deliberately tangled under the table.

Steve was washing the pans from the breakfast after making sure Bucky had settled down with his book rather than trying to sneak around doing house chores he wasn’t supposed to, dwelling on their morning and still being unable to stop smiling. This was how he wanted to spend every day of his life from now on.

The pan he was washing slipped from his hand, but he didn’t pick it up again, his chore forgotten suddenly with the realization of where they’d been heading for a while now suddenly crystallizing in his mind, with him now able to name the emotion that had been growing in his heart. He’d been aware of it since he’d started the deliberate introspection rather than just pushing everything away, but he hadn’t put a name on it yet, had still shied away from it, but the knowledge was inescapable now.

He barely remembered to dry his hands before rushing to the living room, collapsing on the couch from speed rather than properly seating himself next to Bucky, who looked up from his book with his eyes round.

“I love you,” Steve blurted out, and was gratified to see the surprise on Bucky’s face melt into a smile. He rushed to explain, “I should have told you before. I should have known before, I don’t understand how I didn’t get it.”

“Steve.” Bucky grasped his wrist, silencing him. He was still smiling. “I know. I mean, I’ve known for a time now. You didn’t have to tell me.”

“What?” Steve asked, completely puzzled, and he must have looked ridiculous because Bucky laughed and tugged him closer. Steve was happy to oblige, settling his head to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. It felt just right.

“Of course I knew. Your actions told me every day, ever since I got my head out of my ass and actually dared to look at you.” Steve made a noise, wanting to protest, but Bucky just hugged him closer and continued, “I remember it took me a while when we were young to figure out that while you looked like you were fast with your emotions and judgments, with anger or attraction, that while you dared to judge fast whether to rely on people in crisis, the more lasting, more important impressions happened slower. True friendship and trust, those have often taken a while for you, even though you could work well enough with people in the meantime.”

Steve thought about it. “I think it depends. Sometimes something happens that unlocks it faster.”

“I know. I think Natalia is still kind of exasperated you befriended Sam so much faster than her.”

“I think I befriended her fairly swiftly after she stopped trying to play the role of my friend and just was,” Steve said.

“I know, and she does, too. But with us, people that have lived like she and I had to, it’s easier at first to put up a role, and keep that up until it becomes a reality.”

“You used to do that, too,” Steve said, several things becoming that much clearer.

“Yeah, and it was another reason I kept a distance between us, besides everything we’ve already talked about. You would have just seen right through it.”

“And that would have made it harder for you to actually reach the state where it became true that you could live a normal life.” Steve had some immediate regret after the realization, but tried to push the feeling away. It was done with, and while useful to know, feeling bad wouldn’t help them. He also knew Bucky wouldn’t appreciate an apology, when it would be about knowing him so well, and so he pushed the urge away. Bucky probably knew what he was struggling with, because he gently petted Steve’s hair while he was thinking.

“Anyway, I always figured love, of the real and lasting kind, might take a while to form for you. Maybe there’d be a swift attraction at the start, but the part that would really mean something would be built along time. Maybe even without you really noticing it, because of how gradual it would be.”

“Ugh.” Steve wrinkled his nose and straightened even though he’d been very comfortable, because he wanted to see how Bucky looked now, with the laughter in his voice at the last statement. It was not mischief in his eyes, though, shining for Steve.

“Are you steady enough with it now, to listen?” Bucky asked, and when Steve nodded, he leaned almost into a kiss. “I love you, too.”

The almost became a kiss with Bucky’s words, inevitable with the pull between the two of them. It was a seal and an affirmation, but not a start, because they’d been walking down this particular path for some time already, it was just that they’d now acknowledged it.

* * *

Bucky never went back to live in his apartment. They didn’t need to talk about it, because after they’d spoken their commitment to each other it was clear they’d continue living in the house together. While Bucky was recovering, they planned how to decorate it so that it would belong to the both of them and that there would no longer be any lonely rooms.

Five days before Bucky’s arm was scheduled to arrive, there was an alert for the Avengers, and Steve spent several days and nights in the command center, helping the team coordinate out on the field as well as with the local law enforcement. The team did well, and he didn’t need to go out. At times, when it was more tense, it was almost unbearable to witness the operation from behind the screens, but when it was done Steve was relieved. Everyone was safe, and he knew he’d get used to this. It was also good when he arrived home late at night, exhausted but happy, Bucky came to greet him and said, “I liked having a little less to worry about.”

The next day they went back to the Wakandan outreach center. Shuri was busy, so she was present only virtually, not that it made much difference, since her image looked so solid Steve almost forgot she was actually thousands of miles away.

The new arm was dark, nearly black, with an iridescent sheen on it when light hit it just right, with a net of gold flashing at the seams of the metal. It was beautiful, and nothing like the old one. When it was attached, Bucky seemed to adjust to it fairly easily, although it probably would take some time before he could use it as well as the old one. In the long term it would probably be better. Bucky also obviously liked how it looked, and, from the pleased grin on her face, Shuri understood how much.

They’d come by a train, and they decided to walk part of the way back, because it was a beautiful day, the first properly warm day of spring. There was still snow on the ground, but it was melting fast, and soon there’d be flowers blooming. Bucky had scooped some of the wet snow into his left hand, and was now shaping it and turning it around, learning the dexterity he’d need.

Steve reached out with his left hand, and Bucky took it in his right. They’d walked together many times before, and Steve had sometimes thought of reaching out to Bucky, but he never had done it. While Bucky had only had one hand he hadn’t wanted to make him feel less safe, but there’d been another consideration. People sometimes recognized them, but didn’t pay much attention to them, since everyone knew they were friends. Holding hands would mean inviting scrutiny, and for a long time even the idea had exhausted Steve. He was doing better now, and more importantly, he didn’t want to hide anymore. He reached out to Bucky, knowing that since they had several miles to walk home, someone would likely snap a photo of them at the very least. Bucky took his hand, nodding at him, aware of the same thing and ready for it.

There was a little more attention on them than was usual over the next few weeks, but it wasn’t too bad. They finished the house, and got photographed visiting some furniture stores while doing so. Steve also looked into the community projects he’d be able to help with. He still worked with the Avengers, but it was more of a routine now, as much as any job adjacent to them was routine, and most days he was able to come home early.

Their kitchen was more cheerful now, with the practical lines Steve had chosen brightened by the curtains and objects from Bucky’s apartment. There were also more plants, placed in almost every room of the house, and the original orchid was thriving. The library was finished, and Bucky’s books had been brought in and merged with Steve’s, making a start of their collection. 

The room that was Bucky’s no longer had a bed in it. Instead there was the couch from Bucky’s apartment, a stereo system, and big enough open space in the middle to do yoga in. Helen had suggested the practice to Bucky to help with the muscle issues, and sometimes Steve joined him. Sometimes Bucky retired in the room for some quiet time, needing a place of his own the same as Steve had the studio. The painting in greens and blues that Steve had given him hung at the pride place on the wall.

As the spring advanced, things quieted down with people losing interest as predicted and the house finally finished. Steve woke up every morning with his face tucked at Bucky’s side, feeling content even when it had been a more difficult might. Even those were easier to bear now. 

Things were practically perfect, and were made more so when he popped at Mrs Lombardi’s to find her in conversation with one of her granddaughters. She was a vet, and was telling her grandmother of a kitten that had been abandoned on the doorstep of her clinic. Only days later the kitten came home with them, carried in the pocket of Bucky’s hoodie, because she’d climbed in there and fallen asleep when they’d gone to get her at the clinic.

“If she gets used to that, she’ll be sorely disappointed once she grows up,” Steve said later, petting her between ears with a finger. She let out a huge yawn, and made no move of getting out of the pocket, just popped her head out when she wanted to look at things.

“Might get sorely disappointed already tonight when I take this off to go to sleep,” Bucky said, leaning on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve took his hand and rested his head on Bucky’s, just enjoying the closeness and the knowledge they were in it for the long haul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end! Hopefully you've enjoyed the ride and the conclusion worked for you, and brought a little brightness to your days. Thank you all for reading and the notes along the way! 💙
> 
> You can find me variously active on [dreamwidth](https://stellahibernis.dreamwidth.org/)/[twitter](https://twitter.com/stellahibernis)/[tumblr](https://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/).


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